


play 1950

by waveydnp



Series: dee and fi [5]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Depression, F/F, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-08-04 00:51:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 56,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16336628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: It hurts a little, but Dee’s words serve to bring Fi back down to earth. Whatever feelings she’s feeling, they’re her own. They aren’t shared or reciprocated and if she wants to keep this friendship that’s so important to her she needs to know when to reel it in.





	1. Chapter 1

Her legs are long. So long from the bottom of her shorts down to the tips of her painted blue toes. Her feet are planted flat against the wall, right next to Fi’s in her mismatched socks.

The window is open. Sun streams in warm but the air is cold and goosebumps rise up tiny on her skin.

Fi can’t keep her eyes off those legs, but it’s safer than the alternative. It’s safer than staring at the curve of Dee’s nose or the pink of her lips, or worst of all the deep brown warmth of her eyes.

The eyes are too much. They’re dangerous. Fi knows she could could get lost in them if she let herself, and she can’t. She can’t let herself fall any further. She doesn’t know the way back out again.

She’s never felt like this.

They’re not really talking. Fi can feel a strand of hair tickling against her cheek but she makes no move to brush it away. If it’s Dee’s hair she wants it to stay there, likes that they’re lying close enough for that to even be a possibility.

She wishes she was wearing something cuter than powerpuff girls pajamas and a tank top with no bra but she hadn’t been expecting this. She hadn’t expected Dee to show up at her door and invite herself up to Fi’s room, grabbing Fi’s hand and pulling her down onto the bed without an explanation.

They haven’t really talked the whole time. Fi is waiting with bated breath - something is different today.

Fi hears Dee turn her head, feels the weight of those eyes on the side of her face and she’s scared to look, scared of what she’ll find there or how it’ll make her feel.

She does it anyway, because she’s nothing if not weak.

Weak and scared and every muscle coiled with the tension of trying not to let it show.

She looks into Dee’s eyes and Dee’s already looking back. The sun is going down now and Dee’s eyes look black but they’re still the prettiest eyes Fi’s ever seen.

She may be a lot of things, but confused isn’t one of them. She’s not confused anymore. Hasn’t been for a while, actually, but at this point even the denial is gone.

Dee’s lips are chapped. There are bite marks in the bottom and dark under her eyes where her mascara is smudged.

“You ok?” Fi whispers, because now she can see that Dee had been crying.

“Dunno,” Dee whispers back. “I think I fucked up.”

“Fucked what up?”

Dee turns her gaze back up to the ceiling. “Everything? Nothing? I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.”

“Ok.”

Dee pulls her hands back into the sleeves of her oversized black shirt and lifts her arms up to cover her eyes. Fi’s own eyes are drawn down to the way the movement pulls Dee’s shirt up high enough to show a sliver of skin above the waist of her shorts.

Such short shorts, Fi hates herself for noticing. Even when her best friend is in pain she can’t stop looking at her like this.

“D’you wanna talk about it?”

Dee shakes her head, still with her arms thrown over her face.

“D’you wanna go somewhere?”

She shakes her head again.

“Should I just shut up?”

“No,” Dee says, her voice muffled by the fabric of her shirt. “Maybe.”

“Is it Aaron?” Fi asks quietly, knowing she shouldn’t. Knowing she doesn’t really want to know the answer.

“Ok I changed my mind,” Dee says, sitting up suddenly. “You should shut up.”

“Sorry.”

Dee looks down at Fi. “Don’t be. I just… let’s talk about something else? Please?”

“Of course. Are you hungry?”

Dee actually laughs a little. “No. Are you?”

Fi closes one eye and scrunches up her face, then nods sheepishly.

“Go get us some food, then,” Dee says, lying back down. “Preferably coated in chocolate.”

They eat chocolate lying in Fi’s bed and she doesn’t even care that she’ll probably wake up in the morning with some smeared on her leg or something. They go back to not talking until Dee rolls over so she’s half on top of Fi, who’s not entirely sure her heart hasn’t leapt right out of her chest.

“Hi,” she croaks. What is she supposed to do with her hands?

“Do you ever just feel like…” Dee trails off, her eyes studying Fi’s face with such blistering intensity. “Like you don’t even really know yourself, like, at all?”

“Um… yeah. Definitely.”

Dee reaches her hand out and brushes a bit of black fringe out of Fi’s eye. “You need a trim,” she murmurs.

“Yeah.” Is she breathing? She honestly couldn’t say.

“Want me to do it for you?”

Fi gathers up scissors and a brush and comb and brings them back to her room. “Where should we do it?”

Dee pats the bed.

The practical part of Fi’s brain wants to argue that little clippings of hair in her bed isn’t ideal, but she quashes that voice. Any voice that takes her father away from being close and soft and warm with this girl beside her is not a voice she wants to listen to.

“Sit,” Dee says softly. “Take your ponytail out?”

Fi crawls onto the mattress and reaches up to pull the elastic from her hair. “It’s well tangled.”

“I’ll brush it. C’mere.”

Fi sits with her back to Dee and crosses her legs. Her heart jumps when she feels Dee’s legs bracket her from behind.

“Your hair’s getting so long,” Dee murmurs, and Fi feels her running her fingers through it gently, getting caught halfway through in the tangles.

“Too long?” Fi asks, hoping she doesn’t sound as tightly wound as she feels.

“No, it’s pretty. It’s really pretty. I wish mine was straight like this.”

“I wish mine was curly like yours,” Fi argues.

“Let’s trade then.” Dee starts brushing, starting at the bottom and slowly working her way up.

The bristles brush against Fi’s back and pull slightly at the root but Dee is so gentle that it feels good. Fi closes her eyes. “Deal.”

It feels so good that she doesn’t argue when Dee continues brushing long after all the tangles have been worked out. Dee drags the brush across Fi’s scalp, always gently but with enough pressure that it actually tingles a little, a feeling of peaceful heaviness spreading through her body, all the way down her arms and legs and into her fingers and toes.

She never wants it to end. She thinks she could easily fall asleep right now or maybe even just float away.

“Remember when we used to do this and pretend we were hairdressers?” Dee’s voice is soft and low.

Fi chuckles. “And my mum freaked out when you chopped off my fringe completely. She hid all the scissors away after that.”

“I thought it was a good look.”

“Do I even trust you to do this now?” Fi jokes. “Have your hairstyling skills improved in the last ten years or no?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Dee teases.

Then the bristles of the brush are replaced by Dee’s fingers, massaging against the scalp and tracing the hairline around Fi’s ear and stroking through the now smooth strands, tickling her neck and rubbing her back and maybe Fi doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until her head starts to spin a little.

She doesn’t talk. She thinks maybe talking would break the spell.

Eventually though, Dee says, “Guess I should actually cut your hair then, eh?”

“If you must.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

Fi twists around to look at Dee. “Only because hair grows back.”

Dee smiles, shoving gently at Fi’s shoulder. “Shut up you cow. Turn around.”

Fi’s grinning as she turns around to face Dee. Her hair is wild today, curls frizzy and stuck out all over the place. Usually she straightens it painstakingly but apparently not today.

“You should let me do yours after,” Fi says, as Dee picks up the comb and starts carefully isolating Fi’s fringe from the rest of her hair.

“This mop is beyond repair,” Dee says. “In fact…” She drops the comb and picks up Fi’s elastic. “I’m stealing this.” She twists her hair up into a bun on the top of her head. Little tendrils hang down around her temple, baby hair curled up into soft little ringlets.

How is it possible that even when she’s not trying she ends up looking absolutely gorgeous?

“That’s cute,” Fi says. “It looks good like that.”

“I promise I won’t fuck up you hair, Fi,” Dee says, rolling her eyes. “No need for flattery.”

It hurts a little, but Dee’s words serve to bring Fi back down to earth. Whatever feelings she’s feeling, they’re her own. They aren’t shared or reciprocated and if she wants to keep this friendship that’s so important to her she needs to know when to reel it in.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Fi says.

“Oi,” Dee mutters. She pulls Fi’s fringe over to the middle of her forehead, letting the ends hang into her eyes and tickle the bridge of her nose.

Fi closes her eyes when Dee picks up the scissors. It’s just hair and it doesn’t matter but her heart still beats a little faster knowing the potential is there for Dee to genuinely make her looks ridiculous.

The tickling on her face intensifies as the snipping starts and little bits of hair fall onto her cheeks. She crinkles her nose and Dee scolds her gently. “Keep still or Kath’s gonna hide all the scissors again.”

“Too bad I’m all grown up now and don’t actually live with her anymore,” Fi points out.

“Details.” Dee waves her hand in the air dismissively.

Then a few moments later, Fi hears a quiet but passionate, “Fuck.”

“Oh my god, what?”

“Um.”

“What did you do?” Fi asks.

“Uh. Nothing?”

Fi sighs. “How short is it, then?”

“Uh… not as short as when we were kids. That’s something, right?”

Fi opens her eyes just so she can give Dee a disapproving look.

“Don’t murder me please.”

Fi sighs again. “It grows back, right?”

“I need to even it out,” Dee says. “Don’t move.”

The snipping continues and Fi tries to resign herself to looking stupid for a few weeks.

Honestly though… it’s worth it. It’s worth it for Dee’s hands in her hair and on her face, for Dee’s big brown eyes looking at her intently, their faces close enough that Fi can feel the warmth of Dee’s breath.

“Ok,” Dee says softly. “That’s better. Close your eyes for a sec, there’s hair all over.”

Dee closes her eyes, ready for Dee to brush the hair off with her fingers, but instead the bed creaks a little as Dee leans in close and blows so softly and gently.

Maybe it’s weird and not actually intimate like it feels but Fi’s heart feels like it’s going to leap up her throat and burst right open.

“K,” Dee says. “Open.”

She does and Dee is right there, just _right there_. She reaches out to ruffle Fi’s fringe into place.

“Fuck,” Dee murmurs.

“Is it that bad?”

“No, it… it actually looks like, really good. Like… you look hot.”

Fi lets those words sink in, no idea what to say in response. They’re both just sat there, leaned in close and staring at each other. Dee reaches up to touch the hair she just cut, lets the tip of her finger drag down the side of Fi’s face.

Then her phone rings and they both jump. Fi tears her eyes away and Dee digs her mobile out of her pocket. She looks at the screen and huffs unhappily.

“It’s Aaron.”

“Oh.” She’s not sure she’s ever felt a disappointment this keen.

“I have to go.”

“Ok.”

Dee scoots off the bed and stands up. Fi notices some more curly baby hairs against the back of her neck and feels her heart break a little. She doesn’t want her to go.

“Can I come back later?” Dee asks, biting her lip.

“What?”

“Can I sleep here tonight? With you?”

“Oh. Yeah, if you want to,” Fi says clumsily. “Of course.”

“Ok.” She turns around and starts to walk away.

“Dee.”

She turns.

“Will you tell me later? What’s going on with you.”

Dee just smiles sadly. “I’ll see you later.”


	2. Chapter 2

Jimmy’s room is always so much nicer than hers. There are no clothes strewn across the floor and all his houseplants are still alive. His bed is made and everything is white and clean looking. 

He’s sat at the desk in the corner, his head hunched studiously over a stack of papers when Fi bursts in and flops down onto his bed. 

“Hello you,” he murmurs, not even lifting his head.

“You giving those poor kids exams already?”

He shakes his head. “Just papers.”

She clicks her tongue. “That’s almost as bad, mate.”

“It was only five hundred words,” he says defensively.

“I thought you were gonna be a cool teacher. The kind all the girls fall in love with. And maybe secretly like a boy or two who hasn’t worked things out yet.”

He scrunches up his face and finally deigns to look at her. “Don’t even say that. They’re literal children.”

“Teenagers. It’s different.”

“Is it?” he asks.

Fi shrugs. “I had a massive crush on Mrs. Green in college, and she wasn’t even young like you.”

“You have a thing for older ladies.” Jimmy chuckles and turns back to grading his papers.

“I wish,” Fi mutters.

Jimmy looks up again. “Oh, you’re moping.”

“Shut up, I’m not.”

“Then what d’you want?” he asks. 

She’s quiet for a few beats before admitting grudgingly, “Fine. I’m moping.”

“Why? Work shit or life shit? Or… other.”

She sighs, throwing her ankle over the other knee and staring up at the ceiling. “Other of course.”

“Was she here a second ago?” Jimmy asks.

“Yeah, she cut my fringe for me. Which by the way, you’re a bad friend for not noticing.”

“Or I’m a good friend for noticing and not saying anything,” Jimmy argues. 

“Oi. She said it looks good.”

“She would.”

Fi lifts her head up and glares at the back of Jimmy’s head. “She actually said it looked _hot_ , so there.”

Jimmy actually turns around at that. “Did she?”

Fi nods.

“Is that why you’re weird?”

Fi shrugs. “There was kind of a lot of stuff today. She was weird too.”

“Weird like how.”

“Like, I think she’d been crying before she got here. And she left the second Aaron texted her.”

“Fuck,” Jimmy mutters. “Sorry babes.”

“Yeah, I mean… yeah. That sucked. But I dunno… she was like… weirdly intense. She said she feels like she doesn’t know herself at all.”

“Join the club, bitch!” Jimmy half shouts. 

“You know yourself,” Fi says.

“Oh, do I?” He gives her a look.

“Sorry. It’s just like… You have a proper job and your room is clean and you eat salads and shit.”

Jimmy laughs. 

“Plus you’re like, you know…” She gestures ineffectually at nothing. 

“What?”

“Out.”

“Oh,” he says softly. “That.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Weren’t you out at uni?” he asks.

“Kind of, I guess.”

“If I recall correctly you were seeing a new girl every few weeks back then,” Jimmy says.

“Shut up.”

“But like, literally though.”

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t argue any further, because as annoying as it it when he’s right, he’s still right. She did a lot of dating back in York. A lot of hookups that led nowhere. A lot of lovely interesting women that she wished desperately would help her move on from a nearly lifelong inappropriate crush, but alas. 

“It just felt different at uni,” she says. 

“Everything feels different at uni,” Jimmy offers. “Especially when you move away from your family and stuff.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Kind of like a different life.”

“Do you miss it?” he asks.

She’s not sure how to answer. There are days she wishes she could go back, of course, return to a world where there was no pressure to know what came next, where all that mattered was what class to drag her ass out of bed for or whose hall the party was in that week. 

“I missed her,” Fi all but whispers. 

“You’re really in it right now, aren’t you?” Jimmy muses. 

Fi nods. “She asked if she could sleep with me tonight.”

“Well fuck me.”

“Yeah.”

“D’you work tonight?” he asks.

She shakes her head.

“When’s she coming back?”

“Don’t know.”

“Hence the moping,” Jimmy says.

She doesn’t answer that. Instead she says, “Can I just stay in here with you for now? Don’t wanna be alone.”

He motions her over. “Help me with these and we can do something fun after.”

They’re sitting on the sofa in the lounge drinking wine and watching trashy reality tv when the front door opens.

“Bloody f—” 

“Hello James,” Dee says, closing the door behind her and dropping her bag and keys to the floor.

“I always forget you have a key,” Jimmy says. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” she sing songs. “Blame this one.” She nods her head in Fi’s direction. 

“It’s just easier this way,” Fi says, shrugging. “I never have to get up to let her in.”

“Take your shoes off you heathen,” Jimmy chirps at Dee when she starts walking towards them.

Dee rolls her eyes and bends down with an exaggerated groan to unlace her flowery Docs and kick them off on the mat next to Fi’s Chucks and Jimmy’s Van’s. It’s a small thing but it makes Fi happy, seeing their different shoes all tangled together like that.

Dee points to the wine bottle on the coffee table. “Is there enough for me?”

“There is, but all the wine glasses are dirty,” Jimmy says.

“No, I washed some earlier,” Fi says. “There’s some in the dishwasher.”

“Fiona.” Jimmy’s voice goes all stern. “You didn’t.”

Dee snickers.

“What? It’s so much easier than washing them by hand!” she exclaims indignantly. 

“You are the bloody worst flatmate.”

“I’m not, you love me.”

“When all the glass inevitably shatters everywhere you owe me new ones, you know that right?”

Do scoffs. “That’s not gonna happen.”

“Tell her,” Jimmy pleads, looking at Dee.

“Yeah dude, definitely not supposed to put wine glasses in the dishwasher. Did Kath teach you nothing? You’re supposed to be the rich kid here.”

“Oh shut up.”

“Love you,” Dee says, ruffling Fi’s hair on her way to the kitchen. “It still looks really good by the way, Jimmy don’t you think?”

“No comment.”

“You’re one to talk,” Fi says.

“This look is very trendy right now,” Jimmy says defensively, fluffing up his bleached blonde waves. “It makes me look younger.”

“Definitely makes you look something,” Fi says.

Dee comes back with a completely un-shattered wine glass and fits herself between them on the small sofa. She holds it out in front of Fi and grins. “I’ll take a glass of your best red, please.”

“You can have a glass of our only red, and it’s not even cold.”

“You’re not supposed to—”

“I know, I know.” Fi cuts him off before he can get going with all the rubbish about letting the wine breathe and blah blah blah. She leans forward to grab the bottle and starts pouring it into Dee’s glass. It sloshes around dangerously, nearly spilling over the edge.

“Aren’t you meant to be good at this?” Dee asks.

“She’s had a few already,” Jimmy says.

“And no one ever orders wine at a bar,” Fi says. “Not mine anyway.”

“I’m gonna. Next time you work,” Dee says. 

“Tomorrow night,” Fi says. She knows Dee’s probably only teasing but a part of her still hopes she’ll show. Her shifts are always a lot more fun when she can steal glances and shares laughs with her best friend in between serving pissed up students and lonely middle-aged men.

Also she may take a perverse bit of pleasure in getting hit on so many times when Dee can see it happen, which is very very stupid because usually there is literally nothing she hates more. She can count on one hand the number of times it’s been women asking for her number. Ninety nine times out of a hundred it’s sleazy blokes with slurred speech and hands she hates touching to take their money.

“I’ll be there,” Dee says. Fi hopes it’s true. “What’re we watching?”

They spend the next hour finishing off the bottle and half-watching half-talking until Jimmy pulls out his buzzing phone and says, “Well ladies, it’s late, I should head to bed.”

“To have phone sex with your boyfriend?” Dee asks.

Fi giggles. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Jimmy corrects.

“I love that _that’s_ the part you’re refuting,” Fi says. Her head is all warm and fuzzy and Dee’s head is leaned against her shoulder. She feels nice. 

“I’ve got needs, ok?”

“Why don’t you just invite him over?” Fi asks. 

“Goodnight,” Jimmy says, ignoring the question. “Don’t stay up too late, children.” He looks at Dee. “You’ve got class in the morning, yeah?”

“In theory,” she says darkly.

Jimmy gives Fi a look and she gives him a shrug. “Night Jim,” she says.

As soon as he’s gone Dee’s mood seems to shift. She pulls her legs up to her chest and sighs heavily, slumping all her weight into Fi’s side. It’s as if she’d been putting on a show and now that Jimmy’s gone she doesn’t need to anymore.

“What’s up with you?” Fi asks softly.

Dee shrugs. “Everything feels kinda bad right now.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Fi works her arm out from where it’s kind of crushed between their bodies and wraps it around Dee’s back, fingers curling round her shoulder and squeezing. “What’s wrong?”

Dee sighs a sound between despondent and exasperated. “You still don’t get it.”

“I’m sorry,” Fi says automatically. Her heart plummets. She’s no idea what she’s sorry for or what she’s done wrong, she only knows that to make Dee feel worse when she already feels like shit is about the last thing she could ever want.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Dee says again. “My brain is just… broken.”

“I get that,” Fi whispers. “I do. I just thought it was… more. This time.”

“Maybe it is. I don’t know. I can’t make sense of anything. I don’t understand anything enough to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to talk,” Fi says gently. “But if you want to, you can. It doesn’t matter that you don’t understand. Sometimes it’s good to just… share the load, y’know?”

Dee lifts her head up to look at Fi’s face. “I love you,” she says. “Even when you don’t get it.”

“You could explain it to me,” Fi whispers. “Even if it makes no sense.”

Dee smiles sadly. “I wish I could.”

“Are you gonna go to class tomorrow?” Fi asks.

“Probably not.”

“Are you tired?”

Dee chuckles bitterly. “Always.”

“D’you wanna go to bed?”

Dee shakes her head. 

“Mario Kart?” Fi asks. 

They don’t turn off the tv until their asses are numb and their hands are cramped and Dee is smiling more than she’s not. Jimmy will be cross in the morning that they stayed up so late shouting and laughing and cursing at each other, but it was worth it, Fi thinks. Anything is worth easing a little of the weight on Dee’s heart.

Dee has a wee while Fi brushes her teeth and Dee brushes her teeth while Fi moisturizes her face. Fi resists the urge to ask Dee if she’s feeling better. 

Dee shakes her head when Fi offers her pajamas, opting instead just to take off her shorts and bra and climb into bed in her pants and shirt. 

“Will you be able to sleep?” Fi asks. She can barely keep her eyes open.

“Will you cuddle me a bit?” Dee asks quietly.

“Of course.” She opens her arms for Dee to crawl into and tries not to think of Aaron holding her like this.

“Can we get breakfast somewhere nice tomorrow?” Dee asks.

Fi nods. “It’ll probably end up being lunch, but yeah.”

“I don’t have any money.”

Fi chuckles. “I know. I’ve got you.”


	3. Chapter 3

She wakes the next morning to the sound of an alarm that isn’t hers. It’s not a sudden thing but the gradual fading away of dreams where the sound has incorporated itself to a state of consciousness where she finds herself curiously alone. She digs her hand under the pillow and closes her fingers around the phone that’s making the offensive blaring noises.

It’s Dee’s. She must have had an alarm set for school. Fi turns it off and checks the time. It’s only seven am and she’d probably chew her own arm off if it meant she didn’t have to get up right now.

But she wants to know where Dee is. The side of the bed where she’d slept is cold, but she must still be here if her phone is. There’s no way she’d leave that, especially not if she was headed to class.

She fumbles a hand on the nightstand until she finds her glasses and grabs a red flannel button up out of the wardrobe. It’s early October now and the air is shifting away from the warmth of summer. Her toes are cold as she pads down the hall to the toilet.

It still smells like Jimmy’s shower, a mist of steam clings to the mirror and Fi draws a little smiley face in it before brushing her teeth. She catches her reflection with a bit of a start, remembering the error in judgement she’d made yesterday allowing Dee anywhere near her fringe with a pair of scissors.

It could be worse, she thinks. It could definitely be worse, and if Dee thinks it looks good that’s all that really matters. She puts the rest of her hair up in a ponytail and leans in close to the mirror to make sure there’s no toothpaste in the corners of her mouth.

When Dee isn’t in the kitchen or the lounge Fi has a moment of panic, until her eyes catch something moving outside the balcony window.

It’s smoke, drifting slowly up into the air from the lit cigarette perched between Dee’s fingers. It’s a sight Fi always finds deeply jarring, but despite her extreme dislike for this particular vice, she can’t deny Dee looks beautiful, sat on the little table they’ve got out there, legs long and bare and pulled up to her chest as she surveys Manchester in the morning from above.

She watches Dee take a drag and breathe smoke out from between her lovely lips and Fi can hear her mother’s voice in her head and she knows Dee will be annoyed with her but she can’t not make clear again her disapproval.

She opens the sliding glass door to the balcony and steps outside. A shiver runs through her at the nip of the breeze. “Morning,” she says softly.

Dee turns her head and gives her a half smile.

“Aren’t you cold?” Fi asks.

“Oh,” Dee says, like she hadn’t even considered it. “A little.”

“Did you sleep?”

Dee shakes her head and taps her finger against the top of the fag, ashing onto the concrete floor of the balcony.

“Why do you still do that?” Fi asks, trying to keep the judgement out of her voice.

“I don’t do it that much,” Dee says. She takes another drag and Fi watches with a perverse fascination as the end glows a brighter orange for a moment and then more smoke from Dee’s mouth as she talks. “I only smoke when I’m sad.”

“Yeah,” Fi says sadly. She doesn’t need to say that that means Dee actually does smoke a lot.

“I could stop if I wanted,” she says, defensive but without any real conviction.

“Then stop,” Fi murmurs, holding out her hand.

Dee sighs, but she lets Fi take the cigarette from between her fingers and put it out against the ledge of the balcony.

“It’s better than a lot of the alternatives you know,” Dee says quietly.

“It’s not better than therapy. Or exercise. Or meds.”

“Nicotine is basically a med,” Dee argues. “No more addictive than like, Prozac or whatever.”

“Except it doesn’t actually make you any less sad,” Fi says gently.

“It distracts me.”

“And pollutes your body with carcinogens.”

Dee rolls her eyes. “Ok mum.”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“I know, Fi. It’s alright. I know I shouldn’t.”

“You should come inside. It’s cold. And early. Could you sleep now?” Fi asks.

“Don’t think so. Let’s get breakfast.” She follows Dee back inside the flat.

“I feel like I should be encouraging you to go to class.”

“No, you shouldn’t, because you’re my friend, not my mum.”

Fi feels that one in her chest. “Well excuse me for giving a shit.” She’s braced for an argument, but when Dee turns around to face her her eyes are already wet, one tear rolling down her cheek.

“Fuck,” Fi mutters under her breath. “Sorry. Forget I said anything. Let’s start this day over.”

“Please don’t stop giving a shit,” Dee says quietly. “I know I make it hard sometimes.”

“You don’t. And I never could stop. C’mere.” She reaches out and pulls Dee to her chest and crushes her into a bear hug.

For a while Dee just stands there and allows herself to be held, resting her cheek on Fi’s shoulder but eventually her arms lift up to cling loosely to the back of Fi’s shirt.

“Should I ring Aaron?” Fi asks. She hates it, but she also knows when to prioritize Dee’s wellbeing over her own petty jealousy.

Dee laughs wetly. Bitterly maybe. “I just want you.”

“Are we calling this a mental health day?” Fi asks.

Dee nods against her shoulder.

“Should I call in sick to work?”

“No, I want to sit at the bar all night and watch you make drinks.”

“I think I work til three,” Fi warns.

“Good. I can’t sleep anyway.”

“You gonna stay here again?”

Dee nods.

It’s dangerous for Fi to let herself feel so good when Dee clings like this. It always leads to nights spent crying on Jimmy’s shoulder about why can’t she just get over it and fall for a girl who isn’t so hopelessly straight. But she still does it every time, still lets herself bask in the hope that she isn’t alone in her feelings.

She feels guilty. So bloody guilty that she can’t just be satisfied with the friendship, that a part of her heart will always be hoping for more.

Guilty for letting Dee sleep next to her and get changed in front of her knowing her thoughts aren’t always pure.

Guilty for the twinge of excitement she feels every time Dee tells her about a fight she’s had with Aaron. Guilty for never even trying to get to know the guy the way she knows Dee would have liked her to.

She feels guilty for lying, every day since the day she accepted that she was different from everyone else and guilty for never sharing her deepest secret with the person she calls her best friend.

“Ok then,” Fi says, letting go before she wants to, because to hold on for too long just makes the guilt spike worse. “Go have a shower and we’ll get breakfast.”

“Do I have to?” Dee asks, scrunching up her face.

“Yes,” Fi says, pushing her towards the bathroom. “You smell like an ashtray.”

Dee flips her off but she doesn’t argue and she’s giggling as she walks down the hall.

“Brush your teeth, too!” Fi shouts.

She heads to her bedroom to change out of her pajamas into black jeans before stepping into the bathroom to put her contacts in.

Dee’s sat on the edge of the bathtub brushing her teeth. “I could’ve been naked, y’know.”

“I’ve seen that shit a hundred times,” Fi says breezily. Sometimes she impresses even herself with how well she can play like it means nothing.

Fi stands in front of the mirror and grabs her contact lens pot, about to take her glasses off when Dee says. “You should leave them on.”

Fi turns. “Yeah?”

Dee shrugs. “You know I think they look nice. You suit them.”

“If I wear my glasses will you leave your hair curly?”

“Yeah,” Dee agrees, surprisingly quickly. “Less work for me anyway.”

“Alright. I’ll leave you to it then. But hurry up, yeah?” Fi says. “I’m well hungry.”

Dee’s hair is still wet as they walk. She’s wearing tight black jeans ripped at the knees and a fuzzy black jumper, backpack slung across slightly hunched shoulders.

“You look like a teddy bear,” Fi tells her.

“Is it time for me to hibernate, then?”

“You should. You need sleep.”

Dee gives her a look. “Stop worrying so much.”

“I will when you sleep.”

“Maybe I would if you didn’t snore so loud.” She elbows Fi gently in the side.

“I know for a fact I don’t snore. I recorded myself sleeping once.”

“Did you actually?”

Fi nods. “Can’t blame me for your insomnia, mate.”

Dee sighs. “I know. Any sleep I did get last night was because of you, so thanks babe.”

Fi smiles. At this point she’s stopped asking herself what it means that all her happiest moments with Dee are coloured with an air of sadness.

“It’s weird to be out in the world before like, midday,” she says, desperate to distract herself from those kind of thoughts. Dee needs a friend today.

“I hate it,” Dee says bluntly.

Fi shrugs. “It’s not so bad once you’re up. It’s kind of nice to know we have a full day ahead of us, don’t you think? Plus like, fresh air and exercise and all that.”

“Hate,” Dee says again, but her lips are quirked up slightly in the corners.

“Just think, we might even be able to get to Starbucks before all the pumpkin scones are sold out.”

Dee’s face lights up at that. “Ok… yeah. That’s true.”

Fi has an idea then. “What time was your first class starting today?”

“Nine…” Dee says, side eyeing Fi suspiciously.

“What if I went with you?”

“You wanna come with me to my international law class?”

“If it means you’ll go, yeah, I do.”

Dee frowns. “What about our mental health day?”

“I’ll be right there next to you,” Fi says. “I’ll buy you a giant coffee and all the pastries you want. We’ll go to one class and then we can do whatever you want.”

Dee’s quiet for a while. Fi hopes it’s because she’s considering the offer and not because she’s cross.

“Why do you have to be so _good_ all the time?”

Fi’s stomach clenches but she’s not going to let herself feel anxious over this. She can still turn it around. She doesn’t want to push too hard but she thinks by now she knows Dee’s limits. “Is that a yes?”

“Ugh, fine,” she says dramatically. “Your eternal sunshine is fucking annoying, you know that right?”

Fi laughs, but probably not for the reason Dee assumes. Dee knows her so well, but in some ways she just… really doesn’t know her at all.

When they get to the cafe Dee holds out her hand and Fi presses the money to her palm. It’s not even a question anymore; Dee always does the ordering. Dee gets a cappuccino for herself and a pumpkin spice latte for Fi.

Fi eats her scone in fives bites as they make their way to campus while Dee’s remains safely wrapped up in the bag. She’s a savourer; Fi knows she’ll eat it in class as slowly as humanly possible. Hopefully it’ll make the experience a little more bearable.

As soon as they step foot inside the building, Dee’s shoulders tense visibly. The urge to reach out and hold her hand is nearly overpowering. She might do it if not for the coffee cup already clutched there. What she does do is bump her shoulder into Dee’s to distract her.

“How many classes do you have today?”

“Two.”

“Are we going to both?” Fi asks.

“The next one’s not til two.”

Fi knows she should tread lightly here, but sometimes she gets caught up in trying to be the best she can when she knows Dee’s struggling just to make it through the day. “We could do something fun in between.”

“Like what?” Dee asks, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Whatever you want. We could people watch or get food or go see a film or whatever you want. I still want it to be a mental health day.”

Dee yawns. “Can we play it by ear? I’m feeling kind of knackered now.”

“Yeah ‘course,” Fi says, bumping her shoulder again.

“I’ll make it up to you eventually, by the way,” Dee says. “I won’t always be a useless lump.”

“You’re not useless. Go ahead and lump away. Besides I like being here. It reminds me of York.”

“Still so fucking weird to me that you didn’t hate uni,” Dee mutters as they turn a corner to a set of stairs.

Fi doesn’t say anything. Dee doesn’t need to know that uni was the only time she ever really felt free to fully be herself.

They make their way to Dee’s lecture hall and Fi follows Dee all the way up to the back row of seats. They’ve made it just in time, and the prof starts droning within a couple minutes of their arrival.

It’s well boring, not even Fi can deny that. Her leg bounces restlessly and the minutes pass slowly. Dee eats her scone a tiny bite at a time, getting crumbs all over the notes she’s not actually taking.

But at least she’s here. She’s dressed and she’s showered and she’s eating and she’s out in the world amongst real people and Fi’s going to count that as a win, even if she is yawning every couple minutes and counting down the seconds til they can get out of here.

It feels like an eternity before it’s over. Dee looks absolutely exhausted and Fi honestly doesn’t feel much better. “So,” she says, trying to suppress her hundredth yawn of the morning, “what should we do?”

“Can we just… I’m really tired. Can we go back to yours?”

“We could…” Fi says, an idea forming. “Or we could just go to your hall.”

Dee frowns. “Serious?”

Fi shrugs. “It’s a lot closer.”

“It’s tiny. The bed is a fucking matchbox.”

“I don’t mind.” Understatement of the century.

She expects a lot more argument, but Dee just says, “Ok.”

And she’s not wrong. Her room really is tiny, barely big enough for the desk, chair and bed it contains. Dee pulls off her boots and collapses back onto the mattress, groaning in satisfaction. “Why can’t I sleep at night like a normal person?”

“You are normal,” Fi says, toeing off her own shoes and looking around the room. It’s a bit grim.

“Oh shut up,” Dee says, scooting over as best she can to make room. “C’mere, need you to be my spoon.”

Fi’s heart thumps against her chest. Still, after all these years, that’s all it takes. She clears her throat before asking, “Big or little?”

“Big.” Dee turns over onto her side. Fi crawls onto the bed and swallows back that ever present guilt as she wraps an arm around Dee’s waist and tucks her knees in behind Dee’s.

Dee sighs, quiet and happy. Her hair is dry now, the curls tickling Fi’s nose.

“Fi?”

“Hm?”

“Can you set an alarm for half one?”

Fi grins, nuzzling her forehead further into Dee’s hair. It smells like Jimmy’s shampoo. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Dee hums.

“I’m proud of you,” Fi whispers, pulling her phone out of her pocket to set the alarm.

Dee doesn’t answer. She’s already asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

For the second time in the same day, Fi wakes to the unwelcome sound of a phone’s alarm, though this time there is warmth pressed up against her back.

Dee is groaning unhappily. “Oh my god, Fi, turn that the fuck off, _please_.”

Fi’s not awake enough yet to fully understand how to do that. She’s not sure where her phone actually is. 

“Fi, I swear to god I’ll throw that fucking thing against the wall, you know I will.”

Fi just mumbles unintelligibly, fumbling her sleep heavy fingers around the bed in search of the source of that awful noise.

“It’s under your pillow,” Dee says, not bothering to wait for Fi to process the words and put them into action. She slides her hand under Fi’s head and pulls the phone out herself. “Here.”

Fi takes it and mashes her finger against the screen indiscriminately until the beeping stops. “Might’ve pressed snooze there instead of stop,” she croaks.

“Let’s snooze then.” Dee snuggles back down and pulls the blanket up to her chin.

Fi is facing her now, her vision blurry with sleep and no glasses so that Dee looks soft, fuzzy around the edges but still beautiful. Her eyes are puffy and her hair’s a mess and she looks like she did on Sunday mornings of years past when they’d stay up late telling ghost stories under the covers with a torch and hushed giggles because they knew they’d be in trouble if they got caught. They never got caught, or maybe it’s just that Kath and Karen weren’t terribly bothered by their daughters having a bit of fun. 

That’s all it was then, fun. Two friends enjoying each other’s cheekiness.

Eventually it felt like something a little more… for Fi. Eventually the fun turned to something more complicated, a never ending cycle of longing and confusion and ultimately, when she was finally resigned to what the feelings meant… guilt. 

She feels guilty now as she wraps an arm around Dee’s back and pulls her closer. Dee smiles, but Fi knows it doesn’t mean the same thing for her. 

“That was nice,” Dee murmurs. 

“You slept well?”

Dee nods. “Wish we could stay here. Like, forever.”

Fi’s chest squeezes painfully around her heart. It’s enough, she forces herself to think. It’s enough, this kind of friendship. She knows a lot of people don’t even get this, and this is beautiful just as it is.

“Me too.”

“I don’t really have to go to class, do I? You don’t really need to go to work. We could just live here in my bed forever, right?”

Fi smiles, drinking it in for a moment before bringing them both back down to reality. “I reckon we’d get hungry. And need to wee.”

“Details.”

“Jimmy might start to miss me. And my mum.”

“They could come visit,” Dee says, hitching her leg up over Fi’s hip and squeezing her arms around her like a koala. “You belong here with me forever.”

It would be easy to let herself believe it means more than something akin to sisterly affection and a depressed woman’s clinginess, but she can’t. Fi can’t do that to herself, not again. She’s learned the hard way that ultimately truth hurts less than delusion. 

“What about Aaron?” she asks quietly. 

“Ugh,” is all Dee responds with.

“Is something going on with you lot?”

Dee rolls over onto her back and pushes her hair out of her face. She sighs. “I dunno.”

“I’m guessing that means you don’t want to talk about it.”

She shakes her head.

“Are you ok, though?” Fi asks, forcing herself to sit up.

Dee sits up too. “I need a smoke.”

“So no then.”

Dee rolls her eyes. “C’mon, we’ve got a class to get to.”

Fi feels better when they’re outside. The air still has a little bite to it, enough to clear her head a little. She tries not to make displeased noises as the wind blows Dee’s smoke into her face. She knows there’s only so much nagging Dee can take in one day and she doesn’t want to push it.

“I’m hungry,” she whines. 

“Me too, fuck.”

“Can we get food after?” Fi asks.

Dee shrugs. “You’re the sugar mama here.”

Fi laughs. “Food after.”

“Thanks babe.” Dee beams at her. “I’ll get you back when I get paid.”

“You can get me back by not doing that.” Fi points to Dee’s fag.

“I told you, it’s just a coping mechanism,” Dee says, but luckily she only sounds mildly annoyed.

“Let’s find a different one then, yeah?”

“I have other ones, just this is the only one that really works right now.”

“Why?” Fi asks. “What are the others?”

It always feels weird when she has to ask stuff like so bluntly. She’s not used to not knowing every little detail of Dee’s life. Even when Fi was at York and Dee was still in college they managed to stay just as close as they’d ever been. 

But something had shifted when Dee started at Manchester. Dee used to tell her everything, even things Fi would maybe rather not have known. Now she’s starting her second year and things are only feeling more strange. 

Dee shrugs. “Food. Music. Sex.”

Fi tries to keep her voice even. “And why are they not working?”

Dee takes one more drag from her cigarette and flicks it into the grass. “Maybe my problems are getting bigger.”

“I don’t understand,” Fi says sadly. She knows Dee is sick in her own way, but it kills her that she can’t help, that she doesn’t even know where to start because it’s true, she really doesn’t understand. 

“I know,” Dee says, giving her a little smile. “It’s ok. I’m fine.”

“I’m gonna buy you pizza anyhow,” Fi says. “Hopefully it’ll work a little.”

“Dominos?” Dee asks hopefully.

“Of course. We can even listen to music while we eat it.”

Dee steps into Fi’s space and links their arms together. “You’re the best.”

“Yeah… that’s me. Although, I can’t help you with… the other thing. You’ll need Aaron for that one.”

It hurts to say it, but she has to. It’s really the only way to keep her feet planted firmly on the ground when Dee starts saying things that invite Fi’s mind and heart to wander.

Dee snorts. “Right.”

Fi looks at her. “Are you really not going to tell me what’s going on?”

Dee shakes her head.

“Is he… He’s not, like…?”

“What?” Dee asks, frowning.

“Is he treating you right?” Fi says bluntly. 

“Oh. Oh god, Fi. It’s nothing like that. It’s… it’s not like anything. Everything’s fine. I just… don’t wanna talk about him, ok? Please?”

“Ok. Sorry.” She stays quiet as they approach the building where Dee’s lecture is. “You know you can though, right? If you want.”

“I know,” Dee says, pulling her arm out from Fi’s to open the door. 

The prof for this lecture drones in an uncannily similar way to the one earlier, but Dee seems a little more focused this time. She has a notebook out and actually manages to write about a page of notes over the course of the two hour class. 

It’s actually Fi who feels restless. Her leg jiggles under the table until she sneaks a pen from Dee’s bag to doodle in the margins of her notebook. Dee gives her a fond eye roll when the class ends and there are as many drawings as there are words on the page. 

“That’ll be a nice surprise for you when you’re revising later,” Fi says. 

“That’s assuming an awful lot of future me,” Dee says, shoving the book in her bag as she stands and stretches her arms above her head.

“You’ll revise,” Fi says resolutely. “I’ll make you.”

“You will, won’t you?” Dee smiles.

“But right now I’m freaking starving and will probably die if we don’t go get pizza like, immediately.”

“Same.”

They get their pizza and eat it on the way back to Fi’s flat. They don’t talk, except for when Dee says, “Maybe I lied. Maybe food still works.” She eats slowly, sighing after every bite.

“I’m glad,” Fi says. It doesn’t match how she feels so happy inside that she could cry. 

Dee looks something close to happy by the time Fi’s turning her key in the lock and opening her front door. There’s some colour in her cheeks again.

“I wish I didn’t have to work tonight,” Fi says.

Dee shakes her head. “It’s gonna be fun. I’ll be there the whole time.”

“You just want free drinks.”

“Nuh uh,” Dee says, collapsing onto the sofa, “just don’t wanna be without you.”

Fi goes to the kitchen to get them ribenas. She needs that extra minute not to let Dee’s words get to her head.

She hands Dee a glass before she sits down next to her. “Should I be worried about you?” she asks softly. 

Dee shrugs. “You can if you want. You’d be the only one.”

“That’s really not the answer I was hoping for.”

“Sorry,” Dee says, then takes a long sip of her drink. “Ask me again.”

“I know things feel bad in your head sometimes,” Fi says. “But something feels different right now. And it kind of kills me that you won’t tell me what it is.”

Dee tips her head back on the sofa. Her legs are crossed underneath her and her knees are sticking out of the rips in her jeans. She’s quiet for a long time. “I don’t know how. I don’t know how to tell you. It’s just… a feeling. Like, I don’t know how to put words to it. It wouldn’t make sense.”

“Can you try?”

Dee sighs, not without an edge of exasperation. She chews her lip and stares up at the ceiling. “Everything looks different.”

Fi doesn’t say anything. She’s not going to fuck up Dee’s vulnerability with her ignorance. She doesn’t understand, but saying that won’t help anything. She’s going to let Dee work through it, or at least give her the space to try.

“Like, I don’t recognize myself. I don’t recognize my life, or the people in it.” She pauses. “Except you.”

“That must be scary,” Fi says softly.

“I think Aaron’s going to break up with me.”

“Oh. I— I’m sorry. Do you know why, or—”

“He looks different to me too. So different. Like I don’t know him at all. Or maybe… maybe it’s more like he doesn’t know me.”

“I’m sorry,” Fi murmurs. She’s not taking even the smallest amount of satisfaction in this. It feels awful to hear Dee describe her life this way. 

“The worst part is, like… I don’t even care? Like I kind of _want_ him to.”

“You don’t,” Fi argues. “You love him.”

Dee turns her head to look at Fi. She’s got that look about her again, like she’d had the other day. Her gaze is intense, boring a hole into Fi’s eyes. “Sure.”

“Don’t you?”

Dee shrugs. “Is it possible to have a midlife crisis when you’re not even twenty yet?”

“Maybe it's a quarter life crisis,” Fi offers. 

“Maybe it’s just like… a life crisis. Like, it’s just me not even knowing how I’m supposed to exist.”

Fi tips her head back too, keeping her eyes on Dee. “An existential crisis.”

“Fuck,” Dee murmurs. “Yeah. That’s it exactly.”

“I understand that,” Fi says. “Not knowing how I’m supposed to exist. That makes sense to me.”

“Yeah?”

Fi nods. “Probably better than you can even understand.”

“Do _you_ wanna talk about it?”

Fi chuckles. “Definitely not.”

“Alright then. Good. We won’t talk about the terrifying black holes looming in the back of our heads.”

“Deal,” Fi says. “I have to get ready for work anyway.”

“Ooh, can I do your makeup?” Dee asks excitedly. “Like proper tart you up?”

“Yeah,” Fi says, laughter in her tone. “I always get more tips that way.” It’s the only reason she ever says yes to a request like that. 

“Ugh, men are the fucking worst,” Dee says. “I don’t know how you can work there.”

Fi shrugs. “Used to it I guess.”

“I’d get sacked immediately for punching out all the patrons.”

Fi grins. “You would. D’you not get hit on at ASDA?”

“Oh. Uhh…”

Fi frowns. “What happened this time?”

Dee waves her hand dismissively, pushing herself up and off the sofa. “It’s fine. I didn’t like it there anyway. I already got a new job.”

“Where?”

“Campus bookstore.”

“Oh,” Fi says, pleasantly surprised. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah actually. It’s alright. Maybe I’ll be able to keep this one.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dee shrugs, squatting down to rummage through her backpack, presumably for her makeup bag. “Knew you’d be cross.”

Fi frowns. “I hate that.”

“Sorry, mum. I don’t like disappointing you.”

“Don’t call me mum,” Fi says, with more force than she’d been intending.

“It’s not meant as an insult,” Dee says defensively.

“I know, I just. Don’t like it.”

“Sorry.” Dee sounds confused. 

“S’fine. Just c’mere and give me a new face.”

“I’m not gonna give you a new face, idiot, just decorate the one you have a little. Your face is perfect the way it is.”

Fi can’t help her smile. “Is it?”

Dee plops down on the sofa and tugs on the collar of Fi’s shirt playfully. “It’s a great face.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dee’s face is so close to Fi’s. Her gaze is focused, her fingers holding Fi’s chin gently while she paints something cold that smells like chemicals onto her lips. 

Dee tells her to press her lips together to make sure they’re evenly coated. Fi does, and it’s sticky. 

“How am I supposed to keep this stuff off my teeth?”

“You’re not,” Dee says, capping the applicator. “Sometimes you have to suffer for beauty.”

“Sounds like a raw deal,” Fi says. Dee tells her to shut up and close her eyes. 

Dee is sat there a moment later with a mascara brush in hand, looking put out and saying, “Fi. Stop blinking.”

“I’m not.”

“Every time I come near you with this thing your eyes start spazzing out.”

“They don’t,” Fi insists.

“Ok, they don’t.”

Fi definitely feels her eyelids fluttering as Dee does her best to drag the bristles of the brush up through her eyelashes.

“You’re making a fucking mess,” Dee murmurs.

“You are.”

In the end Dee makes better on her promise to decorate the face Fi already has than to tart her up, and Fi is pleasantly surprised when she looks in the mirror. Her lips are a vibrant purple and her eyelashes are long and black but aside from that she still looks like herself. 

It’s probably because she’s such a terrible client, but still, she’s grateful to still recognize herself. It’d been hard enough for Dee to even get this much done.

“It looks kinda cool, eh?” Fi asks.

“It looks very cool. You look hot, especially with your new hair and your glasses.”

Fi distracts herself from the compliment by negating it immediately. “Should I put my contacts in?”

Dee shakes her head. “You’re not allowed.”

Fi smiles. “Ok then, I guess that’s settled.” She looks in the mirror again, fluffing up her hair a little. “You know this isn’t gonna get me extra tips.”

“Why not?” Dee asks absentmindedly. She’s already moved on to doing her own makeup.

“Blokes don’t like bright lipstick.”

“Don’t they?”

“I don’t think so,” Fi says.

“All the more reason, then,” Dee says. She sounds bitter. Fi fucking loves it.

“They hate black the most though,” Fi says.

“How d’you know all this?” Dee asks, dabbing concealer on top of the blue tinged skin under her eyes. 

Fi shrugs. “Tricks of the trade, I reckon. I listen to the girls at work when they talk.”

“D’you want me to give you something more neutral?”

“Hell no. I don’t give a toss what blokes like.” She panics slightly the moment she’s said it, her eyes darting over to catch Dee’s reaction.

What she sees makes her whole body feel warm. Dee gets up off the bed and walks over to the mirror. She leans in close and starts carefully drawing lipstick over the shape of her lips that leave them black as coal.

Dee turns and gives Fi a smile. “Me neither.”

“That looks amazing,” Fi says. 

“It matches my aesthetic _and_ wards off assholes. Perfect.”

“Perfect,” Fi agrees.

“In fact I’m not even gonna do anything to my eyes.”

“Your eyes don’t need anything,” Fi says, allowing herself to be sincere for a moment in her appreciation for the way Dee looks.

“What’re you gonna wear?” Dee asks.

“Uh… this?” She’s still wearing black jeans and red flannel. It’s a bar after all, not a nightclub or something. 

“Can I choose you an outfit?” Dee asks.

“Am I just a dress up doll to you?”

“Yes,” Dee says without missing a beat. She’s unbuttoning her jeans and pulling on the zip before Fi even realizes it.

“What are you—”

“I’ve always thought you’d look good in ripped jeans,” Dee interrupts. “And I just happen to have a pair right here.” She works them down her thighs and steps on them to pull them off her ankles.

She’s just stood there now in pants and her fuzzy jumper and Fi really shouldn’t be so affected by her best friend’s legs. She’s seen them a thousand times and it’s not something friends should get weird about. She knows that.

What she doesn’t know is how long she should look so as not to make it so obvious that she’s _trying_ not to look. She doesn’t know how to act natural.

In her defence it had been a quick and unexpected disrobing and she’d had exactly zero time to brace herself. Dee’s just… she’s just really fucking gorgeous. Her legs are so long and they look so soft and Fi would be lying if she said she hadn’t had dreams about those legs wrapping around her waist or straddling her hips or tangling up with hers in decidedly non platonic ways…

It feels like a crime to look away. It feels even more wrong _not_ to look away. 

Luckily the moment only actually lasts a few seconds before Dee tosses her the jeans and demands she puts them on. 

Fi complies and slides her own jeans off quickly before stepping into denim that’s still warm from Dee’s body. They’re not quite as tight on Fi as they are on Dee, but they fit well enough. 

Dee seems to notice that fact. “God, I’m gonna have to go to the bar in my knickers aren’t I?”

“What d’you mean?” Fi croaks.

“I mean, your body is so annoyingly perfect. I’m not gonna fit in any of your trousers with my fat ass.”

Fi frowns. “You’re not fat. But even if you were, you’d still be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Oh fuck.

But Dee just rolls her eyes. “Ok, ok, I get it. I won’t call myself fat.”

“None of my jeans are as tight as yours anyway,” Fi says, her heart still pounding. “Go ahead and pick something from my wardrobe.”

“Just toss me the ones you were wearing,” Dee says.

Fi does, and she doesn’t even try to look away as Dee steps into them. 

“I was right by the way,” Dee says as she zips the fly up.

“No you weren’t, they look great on you.”

“Not that,” Dee says, waving her hand dismissively. “I meant about you in ripped jeans.”

Fi feels her a bit of heat in her cheeks. “Good?”

“Great,” Dee corrects. “You have the best fucking legs, mate.”

It’s at that precise moment Fi wishes she’d spent more time in her life with women she wasn’t about to have sex with. She doesn’t recognize the line between friendly appreciation and flirting.

But surely Dee’s not flirting with her, so she just mumbles, “Shut up.”

“D’you have any shirts that are just black?” Dee asks.

Fi chuckles. “You’re just trying to turn me into you.”

“Complaining?”

Fi shakes her head. “I think there’s a t-shirt hanging in the wardrobe.”

A few minutes later Dee pulls out something Fi hasn’t worn since uni and her stomach twists.

“This one?” Dee asks. It’s a long sleeved black shirt with a small rainbow in the middle and the letters TBLGAY underneath. It’s not exactly a crop top but it’ll definitely show some skin if she’s brave enough to wear it.

“Uh…”

She’d forgotten it was in there, a remnant of her time spent at York’s safe space for queer students and alumni. 

She’s positive she’s just been outed. She’s absolutely sure Dee’s about to ask her about it. She doesn’t know if she’s on the verge of hyperventilating because she’s afraid or because she’s excited.

But Dee just says, “It’s cute, you should wear it.”

She can’t think of a good reason to say no. Some tiny part of her feels emboldened the moment she decides she’s going to put it on, like maybe tonight she could actually be herself again in a way she hasn’t since she left the strange bubble of safety of university.

She starts unbuttoning her flannel with slightly shaky fingers; her body often seems not to be caught up to her mind in moments like this.

She’s not even totally sure what’s stopping her from just coming out with it at this point. She knows Dee wouldn’t care. She probably wouldn’t even be surprised. 

Maybe she’s just afraid of things changing. Maybe she’s afraid it wouldn’t be like this anymore.

Dee doesn’t look away when Fi pulls her shirt open and drops it to the floor. She’s sat on the bed dressed all in black with her black lips and her curly hair falling over her shoulders and her eyes stay fixed on Fi even though Fi’s just in jeans and a bra now.

She tries not to hurry to pull the shirt over her head. Friends who’ve been friends as long as they have shouldn’t be weird about this kind of thing.

“I’ve never seen that shirt before, is it new?” Dee asks.

“Uhh, old actually. Got it my first year at York.”

Dee nods. “Looks good on you. You should wear it more.”

Fi’s breath comes out a little shaky. Does she know? Is she waiting for Fi to say something? It feels like a moment, like Fi could say anything and it would be alright. 

Instead she just says, “Yeah, maybe. You ready?”

Jimmy is in the lounge and they pass him on their way to the front door.

“Fiona. Are you wearing ripped jeans?”

She smirks, jerking her thumb in Dee’s direction. “She made me.”

“Doesn’t she look hot?” Dee asks.

“Yeah she d—” He cuts himself off when he looks at Dee. “Are your lips black?”

“Damn right.”

“I love it.”

Fi shoots Dee a look that Dee somehow understands to mean _but you said…_

“Doesn’t count if they’re gay,” Dee says.

“What doesn’t count?” he asks. Fi can tell now his eyes have locked onto her shirt. There’s no way _he_ doesn’t know what it means, because he has one too. That’s how they met after all.

He doesn’t say anything, of course, but Fi knows he’ll have questions for her later.

“Your good taste in fashion and cosmetics,” Dee says to Jimmy. 

“I don’t follow,” he says, finally looking away from Fi and back over to Dee.

“It’s a compliment,” Dee says.

“Oh right. Well cheers in that case. And you gave Fi purple.”

“I did.”

“It looks amazing. And the hair is growing on me a bit now.”

Fi rolls her eyes. “Thanks.”

“Where’re you lot off to?”

“Work,” Fi says, slipping her feet into her shoes. “She’s tagging along.”

“I’m basically her sidekick.”

“Lucky her,” Jimmy murmurs.

“Ok bye Jim,” Fi says before Dee can ask him what he meant by that. He waves and Fi practically pulls Dee out the door. 

They only make it as far as the lift before her phone is buzzing in her pocket. She pulls it out even though she knows without a doubt who it’ll be.

_so many questions_

She types back, _i’ll let you have one for now_

_are you wearing your gay shirt??_

She smiles in spite of herself. _yeah_

_does she know!_

_if she does she didn’t say anything. i gtg ok we’ll talk tomorrow_

“Do you have friends you’re not telling me about?” Dee asks then, draping herself over Fi’s shoulder. 

Fi quickly shoves her phone back into her pocket. “Just Jimmy.”

“Hmmph. He has to share you tonight.”

“I reckon he has plans with phone sex guy anyway,” Fi says, warm at the way Dee leans her head down on her shoulder.

“Maybe he’ll invite him round tonight since he knows you’ll be out late. Maybe tonight it’ll be sofa sex guy.”

Fi scrunches up her nose. “God, it better not. He has a perfectly good bed to do that in.”

Dee chuckles. “You’re such a prude, Fi.”

“M’not.” 

She’s not, but she can understand why Dee always calls her one. She can’t exactly be candid about her own sex life.

Not that she actually has one anymore, but still. 

“I hope he does get laid tonight,” Dee says. “Someone should. We can live vicariously through him, eh?” 

Fi stiffens a little. A feeling of loneliness washes over her, cold and sobering and, “Sure,” is all she can bring herself to say. 

“Maybe you’ll meet someone tonight,” Dee says. 

“Maybe I don’t want to.” She says it before she can think better of it.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s more trouble than it’s worth. This is why all women just need a box of vibrators and a bunch of girlfriends.”

Fi would laugh if her heart didn’t feel so broken. The irony of that statement is almost too much.

“If you’re missing Aaron I don’t mind if you’d rather hang out with him tonight,” Fi says quietly. 

“I wouldn’t.”

“Ok, but if you wanna get laid—”

“I was talking about you,” Dee says. “I just got paranoid that I’m like, cramping your style or being too clingy or something.”

“You’re not.”

Dee shrugs. “I can’t even remember when the last time you had a boyfriend was.”

“I reckon it was Ollie in year ten.”

“You reckon?”

“It was.”

“Didn’t that last for like three weeks?” Dee asks.

“Dunno. Can’t remember.”

The silence that follows is excruciating and Fi realizes too late that she probably should have lied. She’s being so careless tonight without really thinking of the consequences.

“You’re so smart,” Dee says. The lift dings and the doors open and they step out.

“How’s that?”

“Avoiding commitment to people who’ll just let you down. It’s a bloody good way to go about it, I reckon.”

“Dee…”

Dee waves her hand dismissively and then reaches back into her bag for something. A few moments later there’s a spark of orange in the dimming light of evening in October and Fi smells smoke.

“I wish you’d just talk to me instead of doing that,” Fi mutters. 

“Well sometimes I wish you’d talk to me too, y’know? Sometimes I feel like you act more like a therapist than a mate.”

Fi shouldn’t be surprised. At least three cigarettes in a day and sleepless nights mean Dee is really going through it, and with that tends to come a certain amount of lashing out. Fi should be used to it by now, but she really isn’t. 

“Sorry,” Dee says, blowing out smoke after another long silence. “I’m such a cunt sometimes.”

“Don’t say that.”

“You don’t have to tell me things,” Dee says. “Just because I never stop whinging about my problems doesn’t mean you have to.”

“You’re not whinging.”

“God, Fi. Stop, ok? Stop. You don’t always have to defend me.”

“And you don’t always have to make me feel like I need to. Would it kill you to just… be kind to yourself?”

Dee sighs. “I guess I deserve that.”

“You deserve to feel good.”

“Then let’s forget I said anything stupid tonight. Let’s just have fun.”

Fi smiles and allows herself the boldness of draping her arm around Dee’s shoulders. “You do know I’m going to be working, right?”

“Yeah but it’ll be fun because I’m there. I’m fun,” Dee says, reaching up and wrapping her hand around Fi’s, pulling Fi’s arm tighter around her. “Right?”

“Right. Absolutely.”

“And you forgive me when I act like a twat.”

Fi smiles. “Always.”


	6. Chapter 6

Dee makes sure to park herself on a stool right up at the bar. They’re there early enough that it isn’t really a problem, but even if the place had been curiously busy, Fi wouldn’t have been worried. Dee knows how to get what she wants.

Fi’s glad the lights are low. She feels exposed in this shirt in more ways than one. There’s a sliver of skin on her belly that isn’t covered by it or her jeans and that feels like an invitation for people she doesn’t want looking at her to look a little harder, and it doesn’t help that what they’re going to see quite clearly reveals a secret she isn’t ready to reveal yet. 

But Dee knows how to get what she wants, and she’d wanted Fi to wear this shirt. 

Dee is a smart person, one of the smartest Fi knows, and Fi can’t imagine she doesn’t know what it means, but she’s trying not to think about that part too hard.

She probably should have just told her by now. It probably means something selfish and awful that she still keeps it a secret from the person who’s meant to know her best. 

“Can I have a drink?” Dee asks. “I’ll get you back when I get paid.”

“You have to pace yourself,” Fi says. Not that Dee drinks in an irresponsible way, but Fi’s seen first hand the way alcohol can take someone’s already low mood and turn it into something dark.

Dee smiles. “I want to call you mum but I won’t.”

“Just don’t want you to feel worse,” Fi mumbles, already working on mixing her up something tasty.

“I know,” Dee says, pulling one of her legs up, resting the heel on the edge of the stool. “I promise I’ll be good. I’m just gonna nurse it and stare at you all night.”

Fi looks down at her hands and tries to shake her fringe into her eyes to cover how warm and giddy those words make her feel. It’s too short now though. She doesn’t have enough hair anymore.

“Reckon you’re gonna get well bored,” Fi mumbles as she slides Dee her drink.

“I’m not.”

They share a look. If Fi wasn’t quite so desperate for it to mean something, she’d say it definitely means something.

But she is desperate and she knows it, so she looks away and reminds herself that what it means is Dee’s sad and feeling lonely and deserves more than being treated like a prize to be won.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Fi says. 

“Me too.” She takes a sip of her drink and closes her eyes. “Mm. You’re good at this.”

“Too much practice.”

“You not loving it anymore?”

Fi shrugs. “Sometimes it’s alright I guess.”

“I think it’s kind of brilliant,” Dee says. “Besides the dickheads.”

“Yeah,” Fi chuckles. “Besides that it’s good I guess.”

“Better than a university bookstore or a fucking ASDA.”

Fi tilts her head to the side. “Is it though?”

Just then a group comes in and Fi has a bunch of drink orders to fill. She can feel Dee’s eyes on her the whole time. She hopes she looks cool and like she knows what she’s doing and not awkward and nervous like she suspects. 

She steals glances of her own in her periphery. Dee’s resting her chin on her knee, one hand wrapped around her ankle the other tapping fingertips absentmindedly on the bar. 

Fi comes back to her after what feels like a long time but likely isn’t. “What were we talking about?” she asks.

“You were being unnecessarily self deprecating about your job,” Dee answers.

“Oh right. I think it’s necessary.”

“Why though? You make decent money. You never have to wake up early. You meet people.”

“I hate meeting people.”

Dee laughs. “Fair enough.” She takes a longer sip of her drink. “Can I ask you something?”

Fi crosses her arms over her chest. “Dunno, can you?”

“I think I can.”

“Go on then.”

Dee fixes her eyes on Fi’s, always so intense lately. “Why do you work here if you hate it?”

“I don’t _hate_ it—”

“Do you think you’re stuck?” Dee interrupts. 

“Are you feeling philosophical tonight?”

“Maybe.”

Fi just continues to look at her all shadows and highlights in the dim light of this little bar. She’s not sure if Dee’s actually looking for answer or just trying to sort through something in her head she hasn’t really put words to yet.

“Are you?” Fi asks. “Are you stuck?”

Before Dee can answer a guy comes up to the bar and barks at Fi that he wants a pint. He sits down next to Dee with his back to Fi and - well, he leers. Fi’s whole body goes tense but all she can do is fetch this wanker his beer. 

“Bit early for Halloween, innit?” Fi hears him ask.

“What?” Dee says. Fi can tell already that she’s having none of it.

Fi gives the guy his pint and watches him tap his finger against his lips.

“You don’t like my makeup?” Dee asks.

“It’s a little… harsh.”

Dee’s eyes dart over in Fi’s direction for just a moment. She’s smiling conspiratorially and Fi smiles too.

Dee leans in close to the guy and says, “Maybe I’m a witch.”

“You’re too pretty to be a witch.”

Fi knows she shouldn’t, but she can’t resist. She leans across the counter so she can speak quietly and still have the bloke hear her. “She feeds on the souls of mortal men who are too dense to tell she doesn’t want to be chatted up by them.”

Dee snorts. The guy turns around. “What?”

“I said it’s three pounds for the pint.”

He pulls a fiver out of his pocket and hands it to Fi.

“Cheers,” she says.

The guy looks at Dee and says, “If you wanted me to fuck off you could’ve just told me so. I’m not a bad guy,” before walking away. 

As soon as he’s out of earshot they both break into a fit of giggles that continue on long enough for Fi’s abs to start hurting. 

“Oh my god,” Dee says, wiping her eye with the sleeve of her jumper. “Fuck. Should I feel bad?”

“Nah, he’ll live,” Fi says, waving her hand. “He’s a really nice guy after all.”

“I wish I could feed on the souls of dickheads.”

“Me too,” Fi says wistfully. “We should start a coven.”

“Ooh yes.”

The night continues on like this for some time, trading silliness and laughter in between customers and mercifully managing not to attract any more blokes brave enough to enter their little coven of two. True to her word Dee takes a couple hours to finish her first drink, and Fi likes that her smiles come easy without having to get pissed first.

As the night grows later, the bar slowly gets busier. Co-workers start their shifts and the lights dim a little more. The music gets turned up.

Eventually it gets busy enough that Fi doesn’t have as much time for chatting, so she makes Dee another drink and turns the music up a little louder for her. 

Even when it’s busy and she has a bunch of people to serve, Fi’s mind stays on the girl at the bar with curly hair and black lips and a faraway look in her eye. These feelings aren’t new of course, far from it, but something about the last few days make them feel more heightened, more immediate, more desperate than maybe they ever have before. Her heart races every time she catches Dee looking at her. 

At one point a different pretty girl leans over the counter as she orders her drink and says, “I like your shirt.” Fi barely even registers it. She can’t see anyone else. 

“D’you get a break soon?” Dee asks when there’s a lull.

“You need a smoke or something?” Fi asks. 

Dee shakes her head. “Just think you deserve a break. Plus there’s something I wanna do.”

Fi’s heart jumps right up into her throat. “Ok… one sec.” She goes to tell the guy behind the bar with her that she’s taking a break.

“C’mon,” Dee says, motioning for Fi to follow her the moment she walks round to the other side of the bar. Fi follows, the fact that they’re headed towards the toilets doing nothing to calm her sledgehammer heartbeat.

Dee pushes the door open and Fi follows. “What—” she starts to say and then Dee is shushing her.

“Stay still.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the lipstick from before.

“You brought that?” Fi asks.

“Course. Knew you’d need a touch up. Now stop talking please or I’ll get it everywhere.”

So they’re stood in the middle of the bar toilets and Dee’s so close Fi could count the freckles on her nose if she felt so inclined and when the cold wet applicator touches her lip it feels a lot more intimate than it probably is.

“You can leave if you want to,” Fi says, apropos of nothing but her need to diffuse the one way tension.

“Fi, shush.”

“It’s getting late, I’m sure you’re bored.”

“I told you I wouldn’t be and I’m not,” Dee says, capping the lipstick and somehow leaning in even closer. She reaches up and wipes the tip of her finger gently just above Fi’s upper lip. “There. Perfect.”

“Are you really gonna stay?” Fi asks.

“Yeah. Unless you don’t want me to.”

“That’s not what— I just feel guilty.”

“You’re good at that,” Dee muses. “I need a wee. Wait for me and then we can get some air until you have to go back?”

Fi just nods. She waits til Dee closes the stall door behind her to pull out her phone and text Jimmy.

_i think i might be slowly going mad_

_ain’t we all_ , he answers.

 _what are you doing tomorrow after work_ , she texts.

_tomorrow’s saturday babes_

_oh yeah. good. i need u_

_bad night?_ , he asks.

_idk. not bad just weird_

_i’ll be here_

“Cheating on me?” Dee asks.

Fi jumps. She hadn’t heard her open the stall door. Or flush, for that matter. “Yeah,” she croaks as Dee goes to wash her hands. 

“I think you should make yourself a drink, Fi. You’re so high strung.”

“Am not,” Fi mumbles. She is, though. Nearly always, but especially tonight.

“Let’s go outside.”

The air outside is cold and the pavement is wet. It smells like cigarette smoke and fried food and they lean back against the brick of the side of the bar.

“Aaron rang,” Dee says quietly. Fi is surprised she hasn’t pulled out a cigarette of her own.

“Yeah?”

Dee nods. “He left a voicemail. I’m afraid to listen.”

“Want me to listen for you?” Fi offers. There’s nothing she’d like less, but she’ll do it if Dee wants her to.

Dee clearly doesn’t want her to. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head insistently.

“What are you afraid of?” Fi asks. “That he’s dumped you?”

Dee shrugs. “Or that he hasn’t?”

“So you _want_ to split up.”

Dee sighs and looks down at her boots. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t wanna be a bitch here but like… I reckon that’s something to think about, no?” Fi asks.

“Probably, yeah. I guess.”

“He’s a nice guy,” Fi says. “Like, properly. Not the kind who labels himself a nice guy.”

“Yeah,” Dee murmurs. “He’s nice.”

“And yet you’re avoiding his calls.”

“I am.”

Fi bites her tongue. It’d be too easy to say something stupid now. 

“What do I do?” Dee asks after a long silence.

“I can’t make that decision for you, Dee,” Fi says. _As much as I wish I could._

Dee sighs again. “I think I’m just…”

Fi watches the cars drive by on the street in front of them, their tires splashing up water from the puddle pooled at the corner of the pavement. 

“Stuck?” 

Dee looks up and into her eyes. “Yeah.”

Fi finishes the rest of her shift with the sickening feeling of hope for something she knows can never actually be hers twining its way around her heart. If Dee splits with Aaron she’ll find someone else eventually. That’s what she does. 

Dee somehow manages to get her spot back at the barstool. She doesn’t ask for another drink, so Fi just gives her a diet coke. She puts her curls up in a knot atop her head, tendrils twisting at her temples. She sips from her straw and Fi watches her watching everyone else.

It’s too loud for them to talk, and maybe that’s better. Fi doesn’t know what to say anymore anyway.

Dee has to wait outside while Fi and her coworker, Ben, close up the bar. 

“That your girl?” he asks, nodding his head in the direction of the window.

“What?” Fi asks, too shocked to be diplomatic.

“Oh. Sorry,” he says, immediately sensing Fi’s panic. “I noticed your shirt and you lot looking at each other all night and just figured…”

“We’re friends,” Fi says robotically. “Just friends.”

“My bad.”

“S’ok,” Fi mumbles.

“You can go on, if you want,” Ben offers. “I’ll finish up here.”

“Really?”

He shrugs. “She looks cold. And she shouldn’t just be stood out there alone.”

“Thanks. I’ll get you back next time,” Fi says. She’s never felt so fond of someone she knows next to nothing about.

“No worries.”

Dee’s smile is blinding when Fi joins her outside. “That was fast.”

“Let’s go home,” Fi says. Her home is not Dee’s home but tonight she wants to pretend it is and Dee doesn’t argue.

They’re halfway through the curious silence of their walk back to the flat when Dee slips her hand into Fi’s.

Her fingers are warm somehow. They’re long and warm and lovely as they intertwine with Fi’s. 

They still don’t say anything to each other as they walk but it feels nicer now.

Jimmy isn’t up when they get in and all the lights are off. “Sleep?” Fi asks as they take off their shoes.

“Fuck yes. I’m knackered.”

Dee crawls right into Fi’s bed the instant they get to the bedroom. She doesn’t ask Fi for pajamas or even take off her jeans.

Fi can’t do that. She’d never be tired enough to fall asleep in denim. She slips them off and steps into a pair of ratty old pokémon bottoms and switches her gay shirt for the first thing she can find lying on her floor. 

“Come to bed,” Dee says sleepily in the dark.

Fi can’t help the images those words inspire in her head and something hot prickles beneath the surface of her skin. She slips under the covers and doesn’t ask before pressing her front up against Dee’s back.

Dee doesn’t complain. She sighs a happy sound and kind of wiggles back against Fi’s body. It makes Fi bold, that sound and that wiggle and the dark quiet of her bedroom, so she wraps her arm around Dee’s stomach and slips her hand under that fuzzy black jumper to touch warm bare skin.

It’s so close to moments she’s daydreamed about that she half wonders if maybe she’s asleep already. Dee’s hair is tickling her face, still up in a bun and it takes all the strength Fi has not to nuzzle the back of her neck and drop a kiss there.

“Dee?” she whispers.

“Mm?”

“I’m stuck too.”


	7. Chapter 7

Morning comes too soon. It’s as if Fi closes her eyes and opens them again and there is dull light outside her window and a stirring in the warmth beside her. Somewhere between sleep and waking she tries to grab onto what she wants and keep it close to her, but she’s clumsy and her hands don’t work yet and she has to watch through vision blurred by heavy eyelids and unfortunate genetics as Dee sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed.

She stretches, groans at the satisfaction she must find in lengthening her long limbs after a long night. She sits there for a moment. Fi can only see the back of her but she thinks she must be looking out the window. She can hope Dee’s mind is clear, but she knows it’s likely a hope that’s in vain. Fi knows without checking that it’s still early, maybe only a few hours since they laid down together and Dee doesn’t wake up early unless she has to.

Or unless she’d never actually fallen asleep in the first place.

Dee doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t turn to look at Fi or check that she’s still sleeping before she crosses her arms at the bottom of her jumper and pulls it up over her curls. 

Fi doesn’t look away, not even when she sees that Dee isn’t wearing anything underneath. Her back is long and bare, the bumps of her spine poking out, stretching the skin because she sits with a hunch. Fi wants to reach out, run her fingers across the bumps and down to where the flesh is dimpled on either side, just above the line of her jeans. 

Fi’s jeans. 

Dee stands up and Fi doesn’t look away. She can’t. Dee is too beautiful, topless and bathed in early morning grey and Fi can see the profile of her breast as she leans down to pick something up off the floor.

Fi’s skin feels hot, the ache for things she wants and can never have like sweet torture. She should close her eyes. She should pretend to go back to sleep and not work so hard to etch the memory of the shape and colour of Dee’s nipple into her brain.

Instead she watches Dee pick a shirt up off the floor and pull it over her head. The hem doesn’t quite cover the skin of her back.

When she turns to face Fi, Fi keeps her eyes open, keeps them fixed on that little rainbow and her heart is racing, beating out a frantic pattern against her ribs.

Dee smiles. “Go back to sleep.”

“Why aren’t you here with me?” Fi whispers.

“I have to go.”

“No,” Fi says. “You could stay.”

Dee’s smile is sad. The black on her lips is smudged. She crawls onto the bed and leans over Fi’s body and kisses her forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

Fi’s not going to beg. She’s going to ignore the irrational panic bubbling in her gut, the instinct that tells her something bad is going to happen. Instead she says, “Text me.”

“Course.”

“Don’t smoke.”

Dee chuckles on her way out the door, bag slung over her shoulder, wearing Fi’s shirt and Fi’s jeans and looking like a spectre of the person Fi knows she can be. 

“No promises,” she says, and then she’s gone.

Now Fi closes her eyes. She feels sad, for herself a little but mostly for Dee. Mostly for knowing it doesn’t matter how much Fi loves her, how she’d do anything for her, sometimes Dee’s pain is something that demands to be felt. Fi hasn’t learned yet how to be ok with that. 

Dee likes to say Fi doesn’t understand, and maybe that’s true, but she’s not convinced Dee understands either. Surely to understand would be to know how to feel it a little less. To have more good days than bad. 

Fi forces herself up and out of bed. She grabs her phone and heads to the toilet for a wee and to wash the purple from around her mouth and the raccoon eyes of smudged mascara. She looks just about as tired as she feels. 

When she goes back to bed it’s not hers, but Jimmy’s, with its bright white sheets and abundance of pillows. He groans when she pulls up his duvet.

“Shove over,” she says without sympathy.

“Why?” he croaks. 

“I’m sad.”

He doesn’t even open his eyes, just shuffles over and makes room for her to lie next to him. She doesn’t touch him because he’s not generally a cuddler and she respects that, but he pulls her into his arms anyway. 

“Can we sleep before we talk?” 

She nods. “Just tell me I’ll be ok.”

“You’ll be ok. Even better if you sleep first.”

She takes her phone off silent and turns the volume all the way up. Just in case. 

She’s not sure how long they sleep, but it must be a long time. She feels better when she wakes up. She’s warm and her back is snug up against Jimmy’s. Just knowing he’s there is a comfort.

“Are you awake?” she says, not all that quietly.

“Yeah.” He sounds not unlike a toad. “Are you?”

“I think so.”

“Where’s Dee?”

Fi rolls onto her back and sighs. “Dunno. She left early.”

“Is that why you’re sad?” Jimmy rolls over too and looks at her.

“Yes and no.”

“Did she ever say anything about the gay shirt?”

Fi shakes her head. “She put it on this morning, though. Before she left.”

“Are you serious?” Jimmy asks.

“Yeah. She put it on right in front of me. I don't know if she knew I was awake or not.”

“Still,” Jimmy says. “That has to mean something, right?”

“I’m trying to tell myself it doesn’t,” she says quietly.

“Why?”

She turns her head on the pillow to give him a look. “You know why.”

“Maybe she’s into you,” Jimmy says.

Fi snorts.

“Weirder things have happened.”

“Not to me,” she says bitterly. 

Jimmy is quiet a while before he says, “You know she knows, right?”

Fi makes an unhappy little noise, pushes her dirty hair back off her face. “She might not.”

“She’s not stupid.”

“Ugh,” Fi groans. “Why did I keep that bloody shirt.”

“It’s a great shirt,” Jimmy says, nudging her with his knee. “The real question is why didn’t you just tell her a long time ago.”

She frowns. “I’d think you of all people would understand.”

“Yeah but… it’s _Dee_.”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“Do you even wanna talk about this?” Jimmy asks. 

She sighs. “I don’t know.”

“Mate.” He shoves her shoulder gently. “What _do_ you know?”

She shoves him back. “I know… I know I’m hungry.”

“Me too.”

“So whatcha makin’ me?” she asks.

“Nothing until you shower.”

“How dare you.” She shoves him again. “I’m as fresh as a summer rose.”

He hauls himself up out bed and heads for the door. “Go shower rosie. You and I have a breakfast date with Big Brother.”

She grins. “Ok fine.” He knows her so well. Nothing could be more effective at getting her out of bed than food and trash television. She grabs her phone to check the time… and maybe something else, trying not to let the disappointment get to her head when there _is_ nothing else.

“Does it count as breakfast when it’s half noon?” she asks.

“The first meal of the day is always breakfast,” Jimmy says. “Now get up.”

“I’m getting.” She waits til he’s gone to open up the messages on her phone and start typing.

_hey. just woke up and checked my phone. i was really hoping you’d have texted me but you haven’t. you said you would and you didn’t and i’m not cross or anything i’m just worried about you and i think you know that. you know i’m a worrier. i know you’re going through some shit and you think i can’t possibly understand but that hurts me a little bit and i wish you’d give me a chance. i’ll never understand if you don’t talk to me. if you really don’t want to talk that’s fine, tell me so and i’ll drop it but i wish you would. i feel like you’re shutting me out and it hurts because i want to help, or at least be there as a shoulder or an ear or whatever you need._

She hits send like an impulse, without thought to the possible fallout. It’s messy and unlike her to push but she’s feeling momentarily reckless and she wants to go ahead and ride that wave of over-honesty. She knows she could never say it in person, so she writes it instead and hopes it won’t fall on blind eyes. 

But of course she starts to regret it immediately, so she types out one more message and hopes it makes up for the emotional word vomit that preceded it.

_you used to tell me things. i only want you to know that you still can. you can tell me anything._

She’s genuinely shocked to see a reply pop up before she even has time to turn off the screen.

_i love you_

It’s not really what Fi was hoping for, but it’s nice all the same. She sees those three grey dots pop up, then disappear. They pop up again for a while, then they’re gone and there’s still no message coming through. 

She watches this happen a few more times until eventually it stops. She still hasn’t received another message and the curiosity is burning a hole right through her chest but she's done all the pushing she’s going to do today.

 _i love you too_ , she texts back, then forces herself out of the warmth of Jimmy’s bed. She can already smell the richness of coffee in the cool air of their flat and she thinks she’d like to wash off everything from the past couple of days before she sits down to drink it.

Her shower is quick and perfunctory; she doesn’t really want to be alone with her thoughts right now. She rubs lotion on her damp skin once she’s out because it’s a habit that feels wrong to break at this point, but she doesn’t take the care she usually does. She yanks a brush through her hair and winces when it pulls. It’s a world away from the gentleness of Dee’s brushing a couple days ago.

She’s still completely naked when she opens the door and just happens to run into Jimmy coming down the hall.

All he does is roll his eyes at this point. “You’re a bloody nudist,” he mumbles, stepping past her and into the bathroom. 

He’s not wrong.

Once in her room she finds the comfiest trousers she can that are actually still fit to be worn as clothing, a pair of yoga pants she’d bought a few years back under the delusion that she’d actually start some kind of consistent exercise routine. She never did, but at least she’d gotten some good loungewear out of it.

She spots her green York hoodie lying on the floor and leans down to pick it up when she notices what’s crumpled in a heap right beside it.

Dee’s fuzzy black jumper. She picks it up, feels the softness of it between her fingers as she holds it up to her face and breathes it in. It smells like cigarettes and Dee. 

Fi pulls it over her head and wraps herself up in a hug, pressing the fabric against her breasts. She feels more than a little pathetic but also nice. Warm and soft and connected. She hopes Dee’s still wearing the gay shirt. 

Jimmy pokes his head in and she jumps.

“What’re you doing you nutter?” he asks.

“Nothing. Shut up.”

“C’mon, your coffee’s going cold.”

She grabs her phone off the bed before following him out to the lounge. She’s got no idea if there’s a message waiting for her or not. She’s almost afraid to look, so she puts it on the coffee table and picks up her mug instead. It’s the One Direction mug, the one with the chip in the rim because Jimmy’s used it so much.

“You gave me Harry? You must really feel sorry for me today,” she murmurs before taking a sip. It’s strong and sweet and still plenty hot. “Mm.”

“I feel sorry for you every day, Fiona.” He puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her in.

“Piss off.”

“Hey,” he says gently.

She turns her head to look at him. 

“You’ll be ok.” It’s so wholly genuine that she honestly feels like she might cry.

“Can I ask you something?” she says.

“Of course.”

“Did you have sex on this sofa last night?”

He snorts, pulling his arm back. “Fuck, Fi.”

She crinkles her nose. “Is that a yes?”

He bites his lip. “Technically no.”

“Jimmy!” she shrieks.

“What, I said no!”

“What did you do?!” she demands, shoving at him yet again.

“Nothing,” he says, putting his mug down on the table before she can spill his tea all over him. “Pretend I lied.”

“Tell me,” she says again.

“No. You don’t wanna know.”

“Ugh,” she grunts. “You men and your dicks. Did you do weird stuff?”

He laughs, full on laughs. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean, you don’t actually want me to tell you the details of my— that.”

“Yes I do. Let me live vicariously through you since I’m going to be a lonely old spinster for the rest of my life.”

“Shut up, idiot, you’re not.”

“Yes I am. I’m doomed to be in love with my straight best friend until I die of a broken heart. You’ll be gone by then living happily ever after with sofa sex guy and they won’t discover my body til it’s half eaten by the fifty cats I inevitably live with by then.”

“You don’t even like cats.”

“That’s just how lonely I’ll be,” she says.

Jimmy rolls his eyes. “If I tell you will you shut up?”

“Yes.”

“He blew me and then I wanked him.” He spits the words out quickly and awkwardly.

“If you got one single freaking _molecule_ of jizz on this couch I swear to god—”

“We didn’t,” Jimmy interrupts. “I promise.”

“Did you have fun?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“Do you like him? Like for real?”

Jimmy smiles a little as he reaches for his mug. “I think so.”

“Do I have to call him by his actual name?”

He chuckles. “That’d be nice.”

“What is it?” 

“Tom.”

She sticks her legs out and crosses them at the ankle on the coffee table, leans her head back against the sofa and says, “Fine. Tom. That’s nice I guess.”

“He’s nice,” Jimmy says. “He’s a musician.”

“Is he fit?”

“Very. He’s pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you, I bet,” she says. She’s losing track of how many times she’s shoved him in the shoulder today. 

“Prettier.”

“I’m happy for you, Jim Jam.”

He sighs, returning his arm to its spot around her shoulders. “But also you’re sad.”

She leans her head down against his chest. “Yeah. I’m sad.”

“You’re gonna be ok,” he says.

She can’t feel it right now, but she really hopes he’s right.


	8. Chapter 8

She has two cups of coffee and a bowl of cereal and a good long cuddle with Jimmy before she feels brave enough to look at whatever may or may not be waiting for her on her phone. Big Brother plays in the background and her toes are cold. She curls them in and tucks her feet under Jimmy’s thigh and opens her messages.

 _i’m not trying to shut you out. just trying to survive. i don’t want you to be another person who looks at me like i’m crazy_  
_i keep typing shit and deleting it again because there’s some stuff i just don’t know how to say to you._

Fi hands her phone to Jimmy. “What does this mean?”

His eyes scan back and forth across the screen. “Shit. What did you say to her?”

Fi hides her face in her hands. “Stuff I clearly shouldn’t have.”

“You guys just need to be honest with each other for once.”

“You think she’s not honest with me?”

“I mean, she’s obviously having trouble with something.”

“But _what_?” She’s letting her frustration spill out over the sides now and Jimmy just happens to be the one getting splashed.

“How would I know? That’s why you need to be honest. That’s what I’m saying. You’re playing too many games.”

“I’m not playing games,” she says coldly, pulling her feet out from under his warmth and scooting over on the sofa a little so no part of her is touching any part of him anymore. “Just because I don’t feel like telling her I’m in love with her doesn’t mean I’m playing games.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Right. So I just need to tell her I’m a fucking lesbian, is that? Then all my problems will be solved?”

Jimmy leans forward and reaches for the remote to turn off the tv. “You’re cross.”

“Yeah, I’m fucking cross.” It’s not like her to curse. This anger bubbling up is unlike her too but it feels beyond her control, like something that’s been building so long it had no choice but to come out.

All he has to do is look at her a certain way and she feels it deflate instantly, retreating back into sadness and confusion. “Sorry.”

“Look, if you can’t be honest with her right now, be honest with me.”

“D’you think I need to tell her?” Fi asks quietly.

His answer is immediate. “No. Of course not. That’s not for me to decide, obviously. But can I ask you something?”

She nods, suspecting she’s not going to like it.

“If you didn’t have feelings for her would you tell her the other thing?”

Fi hugs her knees to her chest and sighs. “I reckon, yeah.”

“So it’s not that you think she’d care that you like girls.”

“Course not.”

“You just don’t want her to know you like _her_.”

“Is that so wrong?” Fi asks.

“It’s not wrong. I can just see how it would make a friendship complicated after a while. And how it might make it harder to be honest about other things. And like…” he trails off.

“What?” She’s not letting him get away that easy.

“You’re not allowed to shout at me again,” he says.

“Ugh,” is her very eloquent response. “Fine.”

“I’m just saying my guess is that she knows and maybe she’s known a long time and maybe that makes her feel like you’re not being honest with her and maybe that makes her feel like she can’t be honest with you.” He keeps his stupid baby blue eyes locked onto hers.

She wants to punch him. Maybe because he’s actually speaking out loud something she’s been hoping isn’t true.

“Being closeted isn’t the same thing as being dishonest,” she says weakly.

“It’s not,” he agrees. “But it probably feels different for her as your lifelong best friend and all.”

She’s not going to shout, but she can’t pretend she isn’t upset. “This is about her, not me. This is about how weird she’s been acting lately.”

“She’s depressed, right?”

“Yeah, but this feels like more. She’s not usually like… secretive.”

“She’s young,” Jimmy says. “I’m sure she’s going through hell. You’re doing good, Fi, ok? You’re doing what you’re supposed to do. You’re there for her.”

“I dunno,” Fi murmurs. “Doesn’t feel like enough.”

“It is and you know it. You can’t solve all her problems for her. You’ve just gotta be there to pick her up when she falls.”

“Like you do for me,” she says softly.

He shrugs. “It’s not so hard for me. I don’t fancy you.”

“Oi,” she laughs, stretching a leg out and digging her toes into his thigh.

“Ow, fuck off.” He swats at her. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you both should get shit faced and just confess everything. Reckon you’d end up married within a month.”

“Don’t say that,” Fi scolds, but she’s still smiling.

“Weider things,” he says, shrugging.

“Shut up.” She pulls her phone out and rereads the messages. “What should I say?”

“Just reassure her. Tell her she doesn’t have to say anything she doesn’t want to say and that she’s not crazy.”

“I’ve said all that stuff,” Fi says. “A million times.”

“Then one more can’t hurt, can it?”

“I hate it when you’re all wise and crap.”

He laughs. “It only happens when you’re really and truly a mess, don’t worry.”

“I hate you so much.” She types out pretty much exactly what Jimmy had said.

_i hope you know you could literally say you fantasize about running away to greenland and starting a walrus farm or that you only want to eat sardines and drink asparagus juice for every meal for the rest of your life and i still wouldn’t think you’re crazy. but you don’t have to talk about things you don’t want to talk about. i’m sorry i was pushy. it’s just my worry gene. blame kath._

It’s only a couple minutes later that she gets a reply. _would you raise walruses with me?_

Fi smiles. Her stomach literally flutters. All it takes is a damn text message. _you know i would_

 _what are you up to_ Dee asks.

_just being a slug with jimmy. he’s keeping my toes warm and giving me life lessons_

_ooh tell him to pencil me in for next thursday i could use some of those_

Jimmy gets up and gathers the little pile of dishes they’ve created. “I’ll do the washing up but only because you’re pathetic.”

“Love youuuu,” Fi coos, not taking her eyes off her phone. _what are you up to?_ She’s not sure she really wants to know the answer but she’s got to find a way to be ok with shit like that if she’s going to be a friend of any value to Dee.

_at work for now. wanna pick me up when i’m done or you wanna keep sluggin?_

As if that’s even a question, she scoffs in her head. _what time are you off?_

She joins Jimmy in the kitchen, a pep in her step just knowing she’s going to see Dee again in a few hours. She picks up a dish towel and the 1D mug Jimmy’s just finished washing and starts drying it.

“Feel better?” he asks.

“I think so.” She can feel him looking at her. She turns to stare back. “What?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t wanna get shouted at.”

“I promise I won’t shout.”

“I was just wondering… if things are getting worse.”

“Things?” she asks.

“The feelings,” Jimmy says gently, handing her a dripping wet bowl.

“Oh. Um…”

Jimmy waits a while for her to answer. When she doesn’t he says, “Sorry. Just seems like it’s suddenly harder.”

She sighs, the frustration this time directed inward. “It’s because… ugh.”

“What?” Jimmy asks.

“She’s just been so _weird_.”

“Like wearing the gay shirt?”

Fi nods. “And telling me she thinks Aaron’s going to dump her and that she kind of hopes he does.”

“She said that?”

Fi nods, biting her lip. Even just saying it out loud sparks a hope inside her that’s dangerous.

“Shit,” Jimmy mutters.

“Yeah. And it’s just… a vibe, I guess. Things feel suddenly different between us and my brain is like, trying to convince me it means something it probably doesn’t.”

“Why do you assume it doesn’t?”

“Jim. Don’t.”

“Alright. I’ll officially shut up about it now if you really want me to.”

“I do,” she says. “She doesn’t need me being weird. She just needs what you said. For me to be there for her.” She puts the now dry bowl back up into the cupboard. “I’ll get over it. This happens sometimes. It’ll go back to feeling less intense after a bit, I just have to ride this out.”

“Maybe you need to get laid,” Jimmy says bluntly.

“I probably do. I just… don’t want to.”

“Rub one out then.”

“James!” She swats at him with the towel.

“I’m serious,” he says, holding his arms up in defense of her attacks. “You need to do something that’s just for you and not about her.”

“I thought you were gonna shut up.”

“Fine. Shutting up. I just don’t want you to forget that you deserve to not just be pining all the time.”

“It’s not… She’s my friend. I love her. I’m… I’m happy with that.”

“I know,” he says. She thinks what he really means is that he knows she doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“I’m gonna go to my room for a while,” she says quietly.

“I’m sorry, Fi.”

She shakes her head. “S’fine. I need to suck it up. Maybe I’ll take your advice and…”

He raises his eyebrows.

“Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not!” he protests. “I hope you have fun.”

“Shut up. I’m going now.” She throws the towel at his head before making her escape.

She sits on the edge of her bed and stares out the window. It’s another overcast day, the kind that are so abundant in Manchester this time of year.

She thinks about ringing her brother. It’s been a while since they talked and Martyn’s always good for a laugh. They could catch up and talk about their girl problems.

But Martyn doesn’t have girl problems. He’s got a girl - a great one. A woman, who’s both smarter and better looking than he is. And accomplished too.

She could ring her mum. They could talk about the latest episode of EastEnders or plan her next visit down there. It would be nice to hear her voice, nice to hear her ramble on about the various neighbourhood goings on or the gossip from her church group.

But eventually she’d ask how Fi’s doing, and how Dee’s doing because the two are as good as a package deal to Kath, and everyone else who knew them when they were younger. And right now, more than anything else Fi thinks that would hurt.

She doesn’t want to hurt. She just wants to feel good. She needs something good and simple and shallow that will make her feel nice, flood her body with endorphins.

She hates when Jimmy is right.

She pulls off her yoga pants and slips under her covers to lie back and close her eyes and just breathe. To slip a hand up under her jumper and run it against her skin slowly and purposefully. To roll a nipple between her fingers and try not to think about anything other than this moment, right here and now.

Right now she can hear cars out her window and feel the weight of the duvet on her legs. Right now her mouth still tastes a bit like coffee and she can smell Dee’s perfume and she can’t see anything. Her eyes are closed.

She sees darkness and wants to keep it that way as her hand slides down into her knickers. She touches herself and it doesn’t feel like anything yet, nothing more than an exploration of her own anatomy. She could reach over into her nightstand and pull out any number of things that would make this a lot easier and a lot quicker.

That’s not what she wants today. She wants it to take time. She wants it to build slowly. She wants the reassurance that she’s ok on her own, that even if there are things she wants that are beyond her control she can still rely on herself to do this one thing.

She lets a finger slip inside just enough to drag some wetness up to where it feels best and strokes over that spot gently. It’s dull but it’s there, a sensation that hints at pleasure, the beginning of a swell of blood as her body begins to catch up with what her head wants it to feel.

She works to keep her mind empty of the thoughts that she knows would make her wet, make her tingle and long to press harder and rub faster. She thinks of fingers, of a tongue that doesn’t belong to anyone in particular spreading its warmth along the line of her, licking up flat and flicking at the tip. She spreads her fingers a little and traces up the folds and thinks of soft skin and chapped lips and curly hair and brown eyes and… fuck.

Fuck. She can’t help it. One moment of weakness and the feeling is so good she can’t bring herself to be strong. She can’t deny herself the throbbing warmth and the surge of wanting that comes with picturing those long legs spread open for her, with imagining what noises would be breathed into her ear if Fi were allowed to have things she knows she can’t.

She can like this. In her head she can have whatever she wants. In her head she can wake Dee up with kisses pressed soft to the back of her neck and a hand slipping into her pants. In her head she can feel Dee on the inside and listen to bitten back moans as she makes her come.

In her head their lips are pressed together and Dee kisses like she means it and in real life the orgasm Fi works herself to is almost secondary to how nice it is in her head just to be able to live a life where Dee loves her back.

Her body feels loose and warm afterwards but the guilt creeps in almost immediately. She sits up and pulls Dee’s jumper off. It’s not much but it’s a start.

She can’t live in her head. She can’t keep doing that. Life is going on all around her while she wastes her life away in her head. If she lets herself she thinks she could get lost in there.

She needs to make sure she can still find her way out before it’s too late.


	9. Chapter 9

Fi gets to the bookstore early, too afraid to sit in her room and spend any more time alone with her thoughts. She’s wearing all her own clothes and no makeup at all and it feels good. She feels like herself, something she needs to aspire to feel good about more often.

Dee is sat on a stool behind the cash, biting her nails and staring off. She’s also wearing her own clothes, all black of course, tight jeans and an oversized jumper.

She smiles when she spots Fi, her whole face lighting up with it. Fi smiles back and walks up to lean against the counter. The shop is very nearly empty so she doesn’t feel too awkward about it.

“Having fun?” Fi asks.

“I’m so bored I could claw my own face off.”

“That’d be a waste of a really nice face.” She says it with confidence though the nerves make her fingers twitch. 

Dee just shrugs.

“So what d’you wanna do?” Fi asks.

“You’re not working tonight?”

Fi shakes her head. “Afternoon shift tomorrow, but today I’m all yours.”

“Good,” Dee says. She’s smiling again. She must’ve gone back to halls and had a shower before her shift because he hair is straight and her makeup isn’t smudged. 

“You’re gonna be well sick of me soon,” Fi says.

“Shut up.”

Now Fi shrugs. “Reckon we haven’t spent this much time together all at once since before…”

“You left for York?” Dee offers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Fi says quietly. 

“We still talked like every day, though.”

“Yeah but you didn’t have to actually see me. Didn’t have to see this pasty mug.”

Dee rolls her eyes. “Yeah, you’re so awful to be around.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Fi says playfully. 

“My _point_ , you giant spoon, is that I’m not gonna get sick of you. Even if I was surgically attached to your ass I wouldn’t get sick of you.”

“I’ll ring up a surgeon then, shall I?” Fi asks. She doesn’t think she’s imagining the surprise that flashes momentarily across Dee’s face before she schools it.

“I was thinking something a little less drastic.”

“Hmm… Shakeaway?”

“Ooh, yes please.” Dee pulls out her phone to check the time. “Oh piss and shit, I’ve still got like fifteen minutes.”

Fi chuckles. “Yeah sorry, I’m early. Needed to get out. My head was getting kind of… loud.”

Dee cocks her head just a little and gives Fi a considering look. “You ok?”

“Um.” She looks down at her shoes. “Yeah.”

“Well that was convincing.”

“It’s fine,” Fi says. “I’m fine. Just feeling maybe like, a little extra stuck today.”

Dee’s voice goes soft and low when she asks, “Should we talk about it?”

“Nope. I just wanna have fun today. We can do that, can’t we?”

“Sure,” Dee says. “We can have fun.” She doesn’t sound as happy as she did before. “In fifteen minutes.”

Fi wants to ask if she’s cross but she doesn’t know how to do it without being awkward and childish.   
“Do you _want_ to talk?”

“About your stickiness?” Dee asks. “Or mine.”

Fi laughs. “Whichever.”

“Not if you don’t.”

“I wouldn’t mind talking about yours.”

Dee nods. “Right.” She says it so quietly it nearly stays under her breath and Fi’s not even sure she was meant to hear it.

“What?” Fi asks, her stomach twisting.

“No, nothing. I’m gonna go tell the dude I’m working with that I’m leaving, k? Wanna meet me outside?”

“Ok.”

She pulls her phone out to text Jimmy as she walks outside. 

_she’s still being weird_

She sits on a bench and stares at her phone waiting for Jimmy to answer, watching the dots and hoping he’ll magically have the answer to all her problems.

_my advice hasn’t changed_

_what was it again?_ Fi asks.

_get drunk. confess everything_

Normally she’d roll her eyes or tell him she hates him but right now she’s not in the mood to joke so she just shoves her phone back into her pocket. She’d vowed to herself she was going to try harder to live out loud and she’s already failing.

Dee joins her on the bench five minutes later, already with an unlit cigarette hanging between her lips, digging in her purse presumably for a light.

Fi has a surge of something bold and plucks the fag from Dee’s mouth and chucks it into the grass behind them.

“Oi, what the—”

“You’re not doing that today,” Fi says sternly. “I forbid it.”

“You do, do you?” The corners of Dee’s lips are quirked up against the clear attempt to stop them.

“Yeah, I do. We’re gonna have fun and you’re gonna be happy and not fill your lungs with tar and fucking formaldehyde.”

“Oh, shit,” Dee says, smiling fully now. “You said fuck.”

“I’ll say it again if you try anything stupid.”

“Guess you better buy me a milkshake then, Lester.”

Milkshakes help. Fi gets the sweetest one imaginable and sips it with glee while Dee chides her about blood sugar. It’s just kind of impossible for her to feel bad when Dee’s arm is linked through hers and they’ve got ice cream and the promise of a whole afternoon together. And maybe even evening. 

“What else is fun?” Fi asks, as they wander down the street aimlessly. “Cinema?”

“You’ve spent enough money on me these past few days as it is,” Dee says. 

“I don’t care. You’ll get me back.” 

“I will. It’s the only thing that’s keeping me from quitting.”

“Dee!” Fi chides. “You just started.”

“I know I know, it’s just so _boring_. Makes it feel harder than it is.”

Fi suspects it’s more than boredom making it feel like that, but she doesn’t say anything. “Well I’m proud of you.”

“Shut up,” Dee mumbles.

“It’s better than ASDA, right? And better than having no money at all?”

“Stop being all wise on me, woman. Just let me whinge.”

Fi laughs. “No but seriously, what d’you wanna do?”

“Can we just go to yours and play Mario Kart or something?”

“Is that actually what you wanna do?” Fi asks. “Honestly, you know I don’t care about money stuff.”

“It’s my favourite thing to do, so yeah. I wanna.”

Fi’s inside go all fluttery and squirmy and it’s hard to keep those feelings contained but she tries her best. “You just like it ‘cause you always win.”

Dee grins. “Maybe. We could play something I suck at, if you want. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“No, Mario Kart is good. I like that idea.”

“Maybe we can be unsticky,” Dee says. “Just for tonight.”

“Well,” Fi says, “we can try anyway.”

Dee pulls her arm out of Fi’s.

“What?” Fi asks.

“Nothing.” Dee’s tone is like frost nipping at Fi’s nose.

“No, what?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Fi stops walking and grabs Dee’s arm. “Yes. It does. Tell me.”

Dee stops, but looks decidedly away from Fi and sighs. “I don’t want to fight.”

“What?” Fi’s stomach drops. “Why are we fighting?”

“It’s just…” She sighs again. “You say you wish I’d talk to you, tell you things. But like, at least I try to. You don’t even do that.”

“What?” Fi says stupidly.

“You don’t tell me anything. Like, literally nothing.”

“I…”

“It’s fine,” Dee says curtly. “Doesn’t matter. C’mon, let’s keep going. I’m cold.”

“What do you want me to tell you?” Fi asks, her voice weak. She’s so afraid Dee’s thinking what she’s thinking and she’s so wholly unprepared for this conversation.

Dee gives her a look, a pointed one that only a true idiot would be confused about and Fi feels her heart stop.

Then Dee looks away and starts walking again. “Come on, Fi. I shouldn’t have said anything. Let’s just keep going, ok?”

Fi stands there frozen, reeling - until something weird and hot and angry starts to simmer and she pulls out her phone.

_do we have enough booze at home to get pissed?_

Bless Jimmy for always having his phone on hand. _of course_

Suddenly Dee is back, and she looks angry too. “Are you texting Jimmy right now? For real?”

“Is this about Jimmy?” Fi asks. “Is that what you’re upset about?”

Dee huffs a frustrated breath. “Nothing is about anything. Just forget I ever said anything.”

“Are you jealous of Jimmy?”

“Oh my god, Fi.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and turns away. “Can we not? Can we please not do this? I really wanted to just have fun with you today and I can’t handle fucking up the one good thing I have in my life.”

All of Fi’s anger evaporates instantly. She slides her hand into Dee’s and squeezes. “You haven’t. You could never.”

Dee’s eyes are red when she finally looks at Fi again. “Can we go to yours? Please.”

“Of course. Let’s go.”

“Is… is Jimmy home?” Her voice is so small.

“I’ll tell him to clear out.”

“No, you don’t—”

“Shut up,” Fi says firmly. She lets go of Dee’s hand to text Jimmy.

_can you stay with sofa sex guy tonight please?_

_it’s tom, remember? and yeah i reckon i could. what’s up? everything ok?_

Fi’s fingers are shaky. _tell you later. leave asap ok plz ily_

“Why do you put up with me?” Dee asks once Fi’s put her phone away. 

“Because I love you.”

“Why though.”

Fi takes Dee’s hand again. “Shut up, please. We’re gonna go home now and get drunk and play Mario Kart.”

“Drunk?”

Fi nods. “Very drunk. And you’re gonna stay over again.”

“You want me to?” Dee asks.

“Always, Dee. Literally always. You know that, don’t you?”

Dee smiles a sweet, shy little smile that smashes Fi’s heart into a million pieces. Fi tugs on her hand and they walk and don’t let go until Fi’s pushing her key into the lock of her front door.

Jimmy’s shoes aren’t on the mat. The flat smells nice, like one of his ridiculously expensive scented candles and Fi has a twinge of guilt for kicking him out like that, so suddenly and with zero explanation.

Dee kicks her boots off and goes straight for the sofa. “Let’s do this.”

Fi’s still working on getting her own shoes off. “You want a drink?”

“Sure.”

“You wanna be classy or trashy?” Fi asks from the kitchen.

“You choose.”

Fi fills two glasses of wine nearly to the rim and carries them out to the lounge slowly, careful not to drip any red onto the floor.

“Jesus, Fi.”

“I told you. Very drunk. Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

Dee shrugs. “I’m down for whatever.”

Fi stands there for a moment, awkward and unsure and Dee isn’t one not to notice these things. “What is it?” she asks.

“I just… I don’t want things to be weird,” Fi says.

“They’re not.”

“I want to…” She trails off. She doesn’t even know what she’s saying. 

“It’s fine, Fi,” Dee says, patting the cushion next to her. “Sit.”

She puts the glasses on the coffee table and goes to set up the game. She drops a controller in Dee’s lap before plopping down next to her and throwing her feet up on the table and leaning back to take what could only be described as a glug of her wine. 

“Can I just watch you play for a while?” Fi asks. Her chest feels warm and tingly just from the first sip. It feels nice and she wants to chase that feeling.

“Yeah, course,” Dee says. She takes a dainty sip of her own wine and gets the game set up for one. 

The sun is starting to set outside and it looks very pretty. It doesn’t match with the loud sounds of the game and the way Dee curses out Yoshi and Baby Peach when they pass her even for a millisecond but it feels right. Fi watches the clouds light up with pinks and oranges and greys and drinks her wine and lets her body slump into Dee’s a little more with each passing game until her head rests on her shoulder and bounces every time Dee gets particularly animated.

She finishes her own wine and then moves on to Dee’s. Dee hasn’t touched it since she started playing and she doesn’t seem bothered when Fi reaches for it. Maybe it was kind of meant for her all along anyway.

Because Dee’s right - it’s Fi who doesn’t know how to talk. It’s Fi who keeps the things that really matter close to the vest. Dee wears her heart on her sleeve. The only things she doesn’t share are the things she can’t put words to, and even then she still tries. Fi just keeps it all bottled up and tries to be what other people need when they need it. She prides herself on that, really.

Or she did. Up until the moment Dee let her know in no uncertain terms that really it’s all just a load of bullshit. It’s barely more than a lie. 

She tells different people different things, but it’s never everything. Her mum, Martyn, Dee - they all get different versions of who she really is. Jimmy probably gets the closest.

The thought slaps her right across the face. No wonder Dee is jealous.

At that moment Dee pauses the game and pushes gently on Fi’s leg.

“Huh?” Fi mutters, shaken from her inner spiraling.

“Gotta wee,” Dee says.

Fi stares at her as she walks toward the hall. The sun has set properly now and the room is mostly dark. She tries to take another drink only to realize the glass is empty.

Dee comes back quickly. “D’you wanna play now?”

Fi wishes she was drunker. She wishes she was drunk enough to say the things she thinks she should say. 

She shakes her head. “Don’t think I’d be any good in my current state.”

Dee smiles. “You’re not good in any of your states,” she teases.

“How dare you.”

Dee picks up the empty glass off the table and holds her hand out to take the one clutched in Fi’s grasp. “You good for another?”

Fi nods.

“You’re not gonna get sick? I seem to remember you being a serious lightweight.”

Fi shakes her head solemnly. “Jimmy’s trained me up well.”

“Ah,” Dee says before heading to the kitchen and Fi realizes too late that she probably shouldn’t have said that. Fuck.

The glass Dee brings back is filled to a reasonable level and Fi accepts it wordlessly. The air is tense again as Dee sits.

“You gonna keep playing?” Fi asks quietly.

Dee shrugs. “If you want.”

“What do _you_ want?”

She chuckles bitterly and sips her wine. “Ain’t that the question.”

“Do I make you feel worse?” Fi blurts.

“What?”

“Do I?”

Dee frowns. “No. Of course not.”

“But I am today.”

“Fi.” She sighs. “Don’t.”

“I make you feel bad. I make you… you think I like Jimmy better.”

Dee laughs again. “We’re not in primary school. It’s not a competition.”

“But that’s what you think,” Fi says stubbornly.

Dee’s thumb finds its way into her mouth and Fi watches her chew her nail for a good while before she says, “I think you trust him more.”

Fi wants to deny it, because it really isn’t true, at least not in the way Dee means it. She wants to tell her it’s just this one thing.

This one very specific, very small, very fucking huge thing that kind of changes everything and it’s too scary and she doesn’t even know where to begin so instead she does the worst thing she could possibly do and shuts down and says nothing. 

“I miss the days when you’d tell me anything,” Dee says, so quiet and sad. 

“Are you gonna dump Aaron?” Fi blurts. Maybe Dee’s answer will give her courage where the wine is failing.

Dee looks at her. “I don’t know.”

“But you don’t love him.”

Dee shrugs. “Maybe it’s a phase.”

“How can you be with someone you don’t love?” Fi asks. “Why?”

“Why do you care?” Dee asks.

“Because… you’re my friend. My best friend.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are.” Fi leans forward and unintentionally slams her glass down on the table. “And it hurts me to see you stuck.”

“You think it’s about Aaron?” Dee asks. She sounds somewhere between annoyed and amused.

“Isn’t it?”

Dee sighs and tips her head back against the sofa. “Not exclusively.”

“Why do you stay?” Fi asks. 

“Habit. Routine. Familiarity.”

“That’s sad.”

“Well then it fits me perfectly, doesn’t it?”

Fi’s heart sinks. “I don’t want you to be sad anymore.”

She’s afraid of the response but Dee just murmurs, “I know.”

“Can I tell you something?” Fi asks.

“Always.”

“I want you to end it. I don’t just think you should, I _want_ you to.”

Dee looks at her for a long time. Fi fights the urge to say anything else or look away. She’s taking a step, and she wants Dee to know she means it.

“Then I will,” Dee says softly. 

“Will he be upset?”

“Probably not. We’ve been growing apart a long time.”

“Will you be?”

Dee drops her head down onto Fi’s shoulder. “I dunno. Never broken up with anyone before.”

“Me neither,” Fi says quietly.

“Except Ollie.” Dee chuckles. 

“I didn’t really break up with him. We just kinda… forgot about each other.”

“How did you make it through all those years of uni without dating?” Dee asks.

“I didn’t.” Fi’s stomach flutters nervously. They’re really not talked about any of this before.

Dee looks up at her, her face full of questions.

“Never anything that lasted more than a… time or two,” she says awkwardly.

“Wow. That’s… wow.”

“What?”

Dee shakes her head. “Just… surprised.”

“Are you judging me a little bit?”

“No! I’m not, I swear. It’s just kind of like, weird, y’know? To hear something about you that I didn’t already know.”

“Yeah,” Fi says quietly. “I guess you were right. I’m not good at telling you things sometimes.”

“I feel like an asshole,” Dee says. “I really shouldn’t have said that. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. If you can tell Jimmy and not me… that’s fine.”

“I don’t think you think it’s fine,” Fi croaks.

“I mean… I kind of hate it, but it’s… it just is what it is, right? Just because I want to be the one who knows you better than anyone else doesn’t mean I’m actually entitled to it.”

“I want that too,” Fi says. “It’s not that I don’t.”

“Shh. It’s ok. I’m— I know I don’t make it easy.”

“Make what easy?” Fi asks. Her head is starting to feel proper fuzzy now.

“Loving me, I guess?”

“Loving you is the easiest thing in the world,” Fi says before she can analyze whether or not it passes the straight best friend test. 

“You’re drunk,” Dee says fondly.

“A little. Still true though.”

Dee claps her hand down on Fi’s thigh and gives it a little squeeze. “Can we watch a film or something?”

“Yeah if you want.” Fi slumps deeper into the sofa crease. “You have to put it on though. I can’t move.”

“You’re the hostess,” Dee teases. “Lazy ass.”

“M’not lazy. I don’t… don’t have legs.”

“No?” Dee asks, squeezing her thigh again. “What’s this then?”

“A figment of your imagination, baby.”

Dee snorts. “You’re an idiot.”

Fi closes her eyes and leans her head back. “Mm, yup. That’s me.” She’s feeling the wine all through her body now and it feels nice, all warm and floaty.

Dee gets up and puts a DVD in. Fi doesn’t know what, and it really doesn’t matter to her in the slightest. All she cares about is how Dee sits so close when she comes back that she’s nearly sat in Fi’s lap. 

Dee hands her glass to her. “You’re fun when you’re drunk.”

“M’always fun.”

“Yeah. That’s true,” Dee agrees. 

They both fall quiet, Dee watching the movie and Fi watching the images on the screen without processing what they actually mean. She feels half asleep when she hears Dee’s voice again, quiet and warm despite the meaning of her words.

“I’m jealous of Jimmy.”

“I know,” Fi says. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to have a friend you feel more comfortable with than me.”

“I know.”

Dee takes one of Fi’s hands and lays it palm up on her own leg, spreading Fi’s fingers out and tracing over the lines there. “I don’t want you to replace me.”

“I would never,” Fi whispers. “I promise.”

Dee doesn’t look up. She’s watching her own fingers moving against Fi’s palm. “You know you can tell me anything right?”

Fi doesn’t answer. Her heart is in her throat.

“Nothing could ever change how I feel about you.”

“Yeah,” Fi chokes.

“Whatever you wanted to tell me… it’d be ok. Or, not even just ok, but, like… good. Y’know?”

Fi nods. She knows she’ll never get a better moment than now, but she still can’t bring herself to say the words. She doesn’t know how.

“Do you… do you think I’m a liar?” Fi asks.

“No. I don’t Fi. I don’t.”

“Am I a coward?” her voice wavers. 

“No. Just the opposite. You’re so fucking brave.”

“Do you mind if we… I don’t. Don’t think I can—”

“It’s ok.” Dee closes her hand over Fi’s. “It’s ok.”

That’s all she says and it’s just what Fi wants to hear. She squeezes Dee’s hand so tight and swallows over the massive lump in her throat.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Don’t. Don’t say that. I’m the one who should be sorry,” Dee says. “I pushed and I already feel like fucking… I’m sorry. We can forget this ok? We’ll just forget it and you can tell me when you’re ready.” 

Dee starts crying then.

Fi starts laughing.

“What?” Dee says through the tears.

“We’re stupid.”

“What?”

Fi takes in a big shaky breath and it doesn’t help much because she’s decently intoxicated and her arms and legs feel like jello from the nerves but something about Dee crying always makes her snap into single minded focus. Her only job is to get that crying to stop. 

“I’m glad,” she says. “I’m glad you know. I’m not upset. I promise, ok? I’m ok. I just don’t think I want to talk about it yet.”

Dee nods, wiping her nose against the sleeve of her jumper. “Ok. I’m sorry.”

“Let’s make a deal not to do any more apologizing, yeah?”

Dee nods again. “K.”

“This day was supposed to be about making you feel better, not worse,” Fi says. 

“Can we order pizza?” Dee asks.

Fi laughs and laughs and laughs. She may be a bit delirious or something but it’s just really fucking funny to her. 

“Don’t laugh at me.” Dee turns the corners of her lips down into a comical frown.

“I can’t help it,” Fi says.

They eat pizza and put on a different film, one they both like that Fi actually watches this time. She’s nearly falling asleep by the time it’s over though. It’s been a very long, very emotionally draining day. It feels almost impossible that it was only this morning that she watched Dee pull her gay shirt over her naked breasts.

And she definitely shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.

And Dee knows now. The thought keeps jumping out at her. Dee knows. 

“Should I sleep in your bed?” Dee asks.

Fi looks at her like she’s grown a second head. “Where else would you sleep, you nutter?”

Dee shrugs. “I’m sure you’re kind of hating me right now.”

Something sour curls in Fi’s stomach. “Is that the actual reason?”

“What?”

“Are you like…” she takes a breath. “Are you uncomfortable now? Because of—”

Dee grabs her arm and drags her right up off the sofa with surprising strength. “Oh shut up and come on.”

They stumble down the hallway and into Fi’s room and immediately Dee starts unbuttoning her jeans and Fi stands there, unsure as ever of exactly what she should do. She opts for switching her jeans out for pj pants and her jumper for an old t-shirt.

“Can I borrow a shirt?” Dee asks, pulling off her jumper so she’s in nothing but pants and a bra.

Fi tosses her the first thing she can find in her wardrobe, noticing only that it’s red and trying not to let her eyes linger on Dee’s skin.

“Fi, you don’t have to… It doesn’t have to weird.”

Fi forces herself to look over. Dee’s got her babycakes t-shirt on, it turns out, and Fi’s surprised by how good it looks. She’s not sure she’s ever seen Dee in red.

“What’s weird?” Fi says.

“You,” Dee says, sitting on the edge of Fi’s bed. “Looking everywhere but at me.”

“Just… don’t want to make you feel weird.”

“The only thing that makes me feel weird is you acting like this actually changes anything between us, ok?”

Fi smiles. She could laugh at the irony of that, but she knows Dee means it to be a comfort.

“Ok, sorry, yeah,” Fi says. She walks around to the other side of the bed and climbs in under the covers. 

“Is it ok if i’m just in pants?” Dee asks.

“Nothing is changing, right?” Fi replies.

Dee smiles. “Right. Of course.” She turns off the light and Fi can’t see a thing and then the bed creaks loudly and her wind is nearly knocked out as Dee jumps right on top of her, hard, like she’d taken a running leap.

“Ow,” Fi croaks.

Dee is laughing so hard she can barely speak. “Oh my god, sorry! I can’t see anything. I didn’t want the demon under your bed to grab my ankles!”

Fi starts laughing then too. Maybe she’s going to get lucky enough that things really won’t change. Maybe she gets to keep her best friend. Maybe things won’t be weird and they can still be dumbasses together and this doesn’t have to be a big deal.

“I think you broke one of my ribs,” Fi says through the giggles. She feels more drunk right now that she has all night.

“Don’t say that!”

“I guess it’s worth it if it means it saved you from being dragged down to hell.”

“Don’t make fun of me!” Dee shrieks. She wriggles under the duvet and glomps on to Fi’s side. “Everybody knows exposed ankles in the darkness is an invitation for scary shit to fuck with you!”

Fi snorts. “I actually can’t even argue with that.”

“Course not. Only a fool would argue with me.” 

Dee’s face is pressed up against Fi’s neck and her arms are squeezing tight around her middle and the sense of relief is so immense she feels like she could probably fly right now if she cared to try. 

“I’m gonna be so hungover in the morning,” Fi says, allowing herself to squeeze right back.

“Not me! I’m a spring chicken and you’re a weathered old hen.”

“I’ll be sure to aim my sick right at your feet.”

“Ew! You better fucking not.”

Fi laughs. “You better make me tea and bring me drugs then. Wine hangovers are the worst… aside from tequila.”

“You have to tell me about your uni years sometime,” Dee says. “It sounds like you were wild and I just really need to hear those stories.”

Fi covers her face with her free hand. “Never!”

“I’ll get them out of Jimmy, then.”

“He’d never betray me like that!” Fi squawks.

“You sure?”

“... Fudge.”

Dee laughs… and then goes quiet.

“What?” Fi asks.

Dee shakes her head. “S’nothing.”

“Tell me,” Fi demands.

“I just… I’m just like, realizing how… A lot of stuff I thought I knew was wrong and I probably wasn’t there for you like I could have been and you probably felt so happy to be away from everyone you knew and you were probably so happy at York and I was so miserable when you left. And it makes sense why you trust Jimmy more because you probably feel like I can’t understand you like he does and I’m always just a sad sack of shit moaning about my own trivial bullshit—”

“Dee, stop.”

Dee huffs. “Sorry. Rambling. Can I blame it on being drunk?”

“Are you even drunk, though?” Fi asks gently.

“Let’s say yes.”

“I don’t want you to be feeling any of that stuff,” Fi says. “I’m not… my head’s not clear enough to know the right stuff to say right now but we can talk. Someday.”

“Someday?”

“I just… I’m sorry. I need time to like… process, or something.”

“Ok,” Dee says. She sounds sad.

“It has nothing to do with trust,” Fi murmurs. “I trust you. You know I do.”

“I don’t. I don’t know that.”

“Well then, believe me. Trust _me_. Trust me that I trust you.”

Dee is quiet for a while before nuzzling her face closer into Fi’s neck. “Ok.”

“Also?”

“Yeah?” Dee asks.

“Tell me it’s not wrong,” Fi whispers. “Tell me I’m still good and you still love me the same.”

“It’s not wrong,” Dee says without hesitation. “You’re the best and I love you more.”

“Thank you,” Fi chokes. Her eyes are wet.

“Tell me you love me too,” Dee whispers.

“Of course I do. I always have.”

“And you always will.”

“Yes,” Fi says, half laughing, half crying.

“Ok. Good.”

They both fall quiet after that. Fi listens to Dee breathing and focuses on the weight of Dee’s leg on top of hers and her breath warm on her neck. This day has been about a thousand years long but she wants to feel it for just a little bit longer. 

It’s going to be one she remembers for the rest of her life.


	10. Chapter 10

Someone is playing the drums inside Fi’s head, just bashing away with their little wooden sticks right against her skull. That’s not possible, right? 

She rolls over onto her side and her stomach lurches. Her eyes open to light that’s way too bright and blurred vision and she remembers herself and why there’s a concert inside her brain and a world of pain coursing through her body with every pulse of her heart.

She groans, unsure of what to do. Should she be sick and just get it over with? Try to go back to sleep and ignore the consequences of her bad decisions? Get up and find drugs and try to deal with herself as a functional adult would?

Then: fingers in her hair, scratching lightly at her scalp. A warm hand on her forehead. She groans again.

“How bad is it?” Dee asks.

“Not great.”

“What can I do?”

“Time’s’it?” Fi slurs, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Early. You should sleep more.”

“Need something,” she croaks. “Feel sick.”

The bed creaks and the warmth next to her is gone. She takes deep breaths and stays perfectly still in order to encourage the bile to stay in her stomach where it belongs.

When Dee comes back she touches Fi’s forehead again and whispers for her to try to sit up.

“I brought you a pot in case you need to sick.”

Fi makes grabby hands and clutches it against her chest when Dee gives it to her. She takes the tablets Dee drops into her palm and sips the water slowly. If nothing else it feels good to wet her mouth with something cool that doesn’t taste like sour grapes and her body betraying her.

“Thank you,” she croaks, handing the still half full glass back and letting her head find her pillow again.

“Go back to sleep, Fifi.”

“Don’t call me Fifi,” Fi slurs, hatred for that stupid childhood nickname burning even as the drums continue to bang against her temples.

She thinks Dee’s laughing but she’s already falling asleep so she can’t be sure.

The next time she wakes the drums are muted and the nausea is dull. Her mouth still tastes vile so she sits up slowly and flails her hand out.

It takes her too long to realize that the soft thing she’s touching is Dee’s chest and Dee is saying, “Oi, at least buy me dinner first.”

Fi eyes fly open and she pulls her hand away, the shock working wonders to wake her up. “Shit. Sorry.”

“You want your water?”

Fi nods, accepting it eagerly when Dee hands it to her and chugging it down to drown out the taste of her mouth and also the searing discomfort of accidental groping. 

“Feeling better at all?” Dee asks. 

“Maybe,” Fi croaks. “You?”

Dee shrugs. 

Fi takes a closer look at her then. She’s sat up in the bed with a notebook open on her legs and a pen in her hand. Her eyes look tired and her makeup is smudged but she smiles as Fi takes her in.

“Did you sleep?” Fi asks.

Dee shakes her head gently.

“Are you writing?”

“Yeah, a little. Helps sometimes.”

Fi puts her empty cup on her nightstand and sits up a little more against her pillow. “You need sleep, Dee.” She’s gentle but disapproving, a frown furrowing her forehead.

“Mhm,” Dee says. “Also need a smoke but I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Would it really make you feel better?”

“Yeah. I know it’s bad for me and all that shit but it makes me feel calm.”

“Why aren’t you calm?” Fi asks. It’s a stupid question to be sure but she’s not got the wherewithal to be tactful this morning.

“Just… a lot to think about.” She shuts her notebook and drops it and the pen onto the floor.

Suddenly Fi remembers a few of the confessions that were made the night before and her heart sinks.

“Did I make you feel uncomfortable?” 

“What?”

“Or like...” Fi pulls her knees up. “Maybe you’re cross now.”

“I’m not, and don’t ever fucking say that.”

Fi can’t keep the surprise off her face.

“I’ll never be anything but chuffed that you can be yourself with me now, ok? I know it’s scary but don’t ever try to say I’m anything but supportive.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I was thinking about other stuff you said. And stuff I’ve already been thinking about.”

Fi rubs her eyes until she remembers why her vision is so blurry. She squints and fumbles until she finds her glasses and puts them on. 

“Will you tell me what stuff? You don’t have to but—”

“Aaron.”

Aaron. Of course. Fi nods, unsure of what she’s supposed to say next. Is Dee having second thoughts? Remembering what Fi said last night and feeling angry?

Fi doesn’t say anything. Everything feels like the wrong thing. 

“Will you come outside and sit with me while I smoke and not say anything about how bad it is? Please?”

“Of course. Can we maybe make coffee first?” Fi asks.

“Already did.”

Fi could cry. Again she’s rendered speechless, this time by the sheer force of her love and gratitude for this woman.

“Can I borrow some sweats or something? Don’t wanna wear jeans yet,” Dee says, swinging her legs over the side of the mattress.

Fi gets up on shaky legs and finds some trackies for Dee and a hoodie for herself and they make their way to the kitchen for coffee. Fi forgoes the sugar and Dee carries both their mugs out to the balcony, apparently noticing Fi’s hands are shaky too and liable to spill it everywhere if she tries to do it herself. 

The coolness of the air feels good on her skin and the heat of the coffee good as it warms down her throat. The bitterness bites at her tongue but it feels like medicine, caffeine strong and bright to chase away the nausea that clings stubbornly to the walls of her stomach. 

Dee relaxes visibly as she takes her first inhale and Fi watches the smoke she breathes out and tries not to think about all the damage it’s doing. Sometimes life is about choosing the lesser of two evils, and that’s what Dee is doing right now. She’s doing what she needs to feel like she can survive, and who is Fi to judge her for that?

She did the same thing every day she chose to keep one of the most important parts of herself a secret from the most important person in her life. And now Dee knows and there wasn’t even a single _moment_ of judgement.

“Dee?” Fi asks.

Dee turns her head, her eyebrows raised slightly in question.

“I love you.”

Dee smiles. It’s a small one, no dimples. But it’s warm and it’s real.

“Love you too dummy.”

“Do you wanna talk about anything?”

Dee flicks her ash onto the concrete floor and takes another drag. “Your shit or mine?”

“Whatever. Anything.”

“You don’t wanna talk about your shit,” Dee says quietly.

“If it makes you feel better I will.”

Dee shakes her head. “Don’t want it like that. S’not about me.”

Fi could laugh, because of course it’s about Dee. Sometimes it feels like every single goddamn thing inside Fi’s head is about Dee.

“Yours then? D’you wanna talk about Aaron? Or do you want me to shut up. I can shut up.”

Dee doesn’t say anything for a while. She looks out over the view of the city and blows smoke from between her lips. The wind ruffles her hair and Fi drinks her coffee and wonders if this is what life is, an endless march forward through pain and uncertainty punctuated by quiet moments of beauty. She can’t rightfully say that’s not what her life has been so far.

“Why did you say you want me to end it?” Dee asks quietly. 

Fi’s heart pounds harder than the drums ever had. Could she be brave right now?

She could ruin everything right now, in the blink of an eye watch over a decade of friendship crumble under the weight of the things she wants.

“Because I do.”

It’s a compromise. Honesty without the bravery of really being the truth.

Dee nods, flicks her roach into the corner of the balcony. She picks up her mug and chugs half her coffee down in one go. “I think I’ll do it today.”

“Is that what you want?” Fi’s voice is so weak, the fear so naked.

“I think so.”

“Are you going to end up resenting me?”

“No,” Dee says and she sounds so sure. “I should be thanking you. You inspire me.”

Fi wants to hide her face. “How?”

“You’re just… It’s like, if you can be as brave as you are, why can’t I? And then I think like, well maybe I can.”

“I’m not brave.”

Dee looks at her with that intense kind of look she’s been giving of late. “Yes you are. Please. Please just… just don’t argue. It fucking kills me to see how much you punish yourself.”

“You do the same,” Fi whispers.

Dee looks away. “I know. I know I do. And maybe like… maybe this is the first step. And if you think I can do it then I reckon I can.”

“You can,” Fi says, reaching out and squeezing around Dee’s knuckles, hard. “You can do anything you want and I’ll be here to remind you. But also…”

“What?” 

“If what you want is to stay, I don’t want to convince you otherwise. I want you to do what you actually _want_.”

“You want me to leave,” Dee says, blunt. It’s not a question, but it is.

“Yes.”

Dee just nods. 

“What I want the most is for you to be at peace,” Fi says. “I want you to make this and every other decision thinking only of yourself. You’re allowed to be selfish.”

“So are you,” Dee says. 

That brings Fi up short. She sits there silently until Dee kicks her foot.

“Drink your coffee before it gets nasty and cold.”

She does. It’s already cold, but she chugs it down anyway. Dee finishes hers at the same time and then stands up, gathering both the mugs in one hand and reaching the other out to help Fi up. 

They go inside and Dee says, “Go shower while I make you breakfast.”

“I can’t eat,” Fi croaks. Her stomach is too full of sick and worry.

“You have to,” Dee insists. “Just toast. You need something to soak up the bad shit. You have to work later, don’t you?”

Fi groans. She’d forgotten that bit.

“Yeah, so. Go shower. Then come eat toast and watch tv with me.”

The shower feels bloody amazing, she can’t deny that. She’s not even that dirty but she shampoos her hair twice and scrubs herself down from head to toe just for how nice it feels. She’s not ready to get out when every inch of herself has been washed so she knicks Jimmy’s razor from the counter and shaves her legs.

When she’s done she runs her hands over the skin and it’s so smooth and soft that she decides to just lean into how strangely freeing it feels and shave off every body hair she has.

She jumps when the bathroom door opens and a rush of cold air penetrates her steamy bubble of raspberry-scented escapism. 

“Mate, are you still alive?” Dee asks.

“Yeah sorry. I’m done.”

“I was genuinely ready to find you on the floor bleeding from your head. It’s been like thirty five minutes.”

“Sorry.” Fi turns off the water.

“I ate all the toast,” Dee says.

Fi laughs. “It’s ok. I’d rather cereal anyway.” She’s stood there now, naked and wet and starting to shiver, waiting for Dee to leave so she can open the curtain and wrap herself in every towel she owns. 

It’s not lost on her that if it was literally any other person on the planet stood on the other side of this curtain she wouldn’t hesitate to throw it open. 

“Are you gonna get out now so I can wrap you up and be sure that you’re not going to slip and break your neck?”

“I’ve been showering my whole life, reckon I can handle it,” Fi jokes. Her heart is pounding again.

“Yeah but now I’m fixated on it.”

“I’m… naked,” Fi croaks. 

“Yeah, I know. That’s generally the state people are in when they shower, Fiona. C’mon, I’ve got a towel ready for you. I’ll close my eyes if that’s what you’re pressed about.”

It’s entirely stupid but it makes Fi feel better enough to take a breath and pull the shower curtain open.

Dee’s a liar. Her eyes are wide open.

“You’re not closing your eyes,” Fi says, resisting the urge to cover herself with her hands.

“Oops,” Dee says, completely deadpan, eyes remaining so open they don’t even blink.

“I’m cold,” Fi says, because she feels like if she doesn’t keep talking she’ll burst into flames. Dee is _looking_ at her, like really looking.

“C’mere.” She does have a towel ready at least. That part wasn’t a lie.

Fi steps out onto the bathmat. There are a few more seconds of pointed looking that seem to last an eternity. Fi never knew the meaning of the word naked until this moment.

Finally, finally, Dee steps forward to wrap the towel around Fi’s shoulders. “Don’t take another hour to get dressed, k? I’m lonely.”

Fi’s forgotten how to make words with her mouth but it doesn’t matter, Dee’s already walking away. 

Fi brushes her teeth and goes to her room. She lotions her hairless skin hastily and gets dressed in proper clothes, jeans and blue flannel, socks that don’t match. She rips a brush through her hair and puts deodorant on and it probably hasn’t been more than five minute when she joins Dee on the sofa with a bowl of Crunchy Nut.

“That was quick,” Dee says, smiling.

“Well, that’s what you asked for.”

“Didn’t think you’d actually listen.”

They’re halfway through an episode of Buffy when Jimmy comes home.

“Sorry,” he says by way of hello.

“Did phone sex guy kick you out?” Dee asks.

“It’s sofa sex guy now,” Fi says.

“Actually it’s Tom, and he didn’t kick me out,” Jimmy says, hanging up his coat. “He’s a gentleman.”

“Awww,” Dee coos. Then she stands up.

“Are you leaving?” Fi asks.

“You don’t have to leave,” Jimmy says. “I’ll hide in my room.”

“You don’t have to hide,” Dee says. She walks over to him and kisses his cheek.

Fi and Jimmy share a rather shocked look.

“You’re in a good mood, then,” Jimmy says.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Don’t leave,” Fi says.

“I have to. I’ve got some shit to take of, remember?” She says it in such a way that Jimmy gives Fi another look, this time his face full of questions.

“You ok?” Fi asks.

Dee nods. “I’m good. Ring me after work, ok?”

Fi nods.

“I reckon you two have a lot to talk about, so I’m gonna leave you to it.”

Jimmy looks like his eyes might actually bug right out of his head.

“Good luck,” is the last thing Fi says to Dee before she opens the front door. She wants to say more everything feels so awkward with Jimmy stood right there watching. 

“You too,” Dee says. She smiles and the door shuts behind her.


	11. Chapter 11

“Do we have a lot to talk about?” Jimmy asks, the second the door is closed. 

“Yeah, reckon we do.”

“Well get talking, bitch!” He flops down right next to her on the sofa. “Did something happen?”

She makes a weird groaning noise and thunks her forehead against his shoulder. 

“Oh my _god_ Fi, what?”

“I took your stupid advice.”

“What stupid advice?”

“I got drunk and… said things.”

“Holy fuck,” Jimmy breathes. “Holy fuck.”

“It wasn’t like- wasn’t like _that_.”

“Well tell me what it was like! Tell me everything!”

She lifts up her head and looks into his eyes and considers it for a moment. Part of her wants to do just that, just unload every little look and word shared between she and Dee last night and ask him what it all means and what she should do about it. 

Another part wants to tell him nothing. That part wants to keep last night as something special for just the two of them. It had felt special, this morning had too. It had felt like… progress. 

She’s not entirely convinced she wants to share it with Jimmy. She loves him, she really does. But right now she’s not so sure she trusts him to tread lightly, and that’s what she needs. Right now she needs time to come to terms with the truths that were shared.

“I have to get ready for work,” Fi says, standing up.

“You aren’t actually going to leave me hanging like that, are you?” 

“Um… I think-”

“You can’t,” Jimmy interrupts. “Like, I’ll honestly die. Obviously something big happened if you both are acting so bloody strange.”

Fi shrugs. “I didn’t actually say anything, but… she figured it out.”

“Christ, Fi. What part?”

“The part where I’m not into blokes,” Fi says. She almost sounds cross. 

“Is that it?”

She glares at him before spinning on her heels and heading for her room. She accidentally slams the door and flops down onto her bed, face first into her pillow and screams into the fabric. All things considered things are going very well for her right now but for some reason she feels an all-consuming need to cry.

And Jimmy’s reaction hadn’t helped.

Which he must have realized right away, because only a minute or so later there’s a knock on Fi’s door.

“Go away,” she mutters, sure he can’t hear with her voice muffled like that by the pillow.

She hears the door open, footsteps approach her bed and then the creak of springs. 

“I’m really sorry, Fi. I was a dickhead.”

She sniffles. “Yeah.”

“Can we please start over?”

She rolls over onto her back and wipes her nose on her sleeve. “Ok.”

“Tell me again,” Jimmy says gently.

“I kind of sort of indirectly came out to Dee last night.”

“That’s amazing, Fi. Congratulations. I’m so proud of you.” He opens his arms for a hug and Fi accepts it, letting Jimmy wrap her up tight.

She starts crying almost immediately, not bothered in the slightest to keep the tears and snot from running onto his t-shirt. He doesn’t say anything. It’s not like him to ignore something like that but Fi is grateful for it today. He rubs her back and gently rocks her back and forth.

“Are you ok?” he asks.

She laughs and then sobs and then sniffles loudly and wetly. “I don’t know. Yes and no? I dunno. I’m a freaking mess I think.”

“Should we go out somewhere and get a drink?” he asks. “Talk it over?” 

She shakes her head. “I wasn’t kidding, I really do have to work.”

“I’ll come with you then,” he says. “I’ll drink and you talk.”

She pulls out of the hug and just looks at his bright blue eyes and his stubbly jawline. “I’m not really sure I want to.”

“I promise I won’t say anything daft.”

She chews her lip for a moment. “Would you still come if I wanted you to do the talking?”

“Talking about what?”

Fi shrugs. “About Tom. About work. About things that make you happy. Give me some hope that things get better.”

He gives her a sad smile. “Yeah, alright then. I can do that. Just let me take a quick shower.”

Fi likes afternoon shifts. The energy when there’s still light outside is completely different. Jimmy orders a beer and sits at the bar and watches her work just as Dee had done a few days ago.

Fi has an uncomfortable moment of feeling intensely selfish for being as mopey as she has been lately. She’s got not one but two people who love her enough to sit in a dive and watch her work just so she doesn’t have to be alone. 

She wishes she didn’t have to be so precious about all this shit. People come out all the time without making a big deal. Other people can’t even consider the possibility of coming out without jeopardizing their safety. She doesn’t have to worry about that. She has all the love and support in the world and here she is moaning about how hard it is.

“Jim.”

He’s just sat there not talking, which is exactly what she didn’t want. It feels too much like pressure.

“What?”

“You’re meant to be talking to me.”

“Right. What should I talk about?”

She leans down on her elbows. “How about your night? What’d you do with Tom? Was it weird spending the night?”

A smile breaks out across Jimmy’s face, the crooked grin that makes him look cheeky and adorable. Fi doesn’t usually find men adorable but Jimmy is definitely an exception. His cheeks even go a little pink.

“It was nice.”

“I respect your right to privacy and all that but like… I also definitely want more detail than ‘nice.’ Unless it’s all weird sex stuff.”

“What makes you think it’s weird?”

“You’re a boy, he’s a boy. There are dicks involved,” Fi says. “That automatically makes it weird.”

Jimmy rolls his eyes. “You don’t deserve the details.”

She pouts. “I’m sorry. It’s not weird. Dicks are perfectly natural and not at all scary little flesh-coloured worms that shoot weird milky stuff out when—”

“Jesus Fi, oh god,” Jimmy splutters. “Please stop talking.”

“Does it taste like milk?”

Jimmy sighs the long suffering sigh of a man who’s been best friends with a lesbian for too long to be properly offended. “No, Fi. It doesn’t taste like milk. It’s nothing like milk.”

“Is it gross?”

“Is this like, actually what you wanna talk about? Are you questioning?”

“No. Definitely not. Just curious I guess.”

“Or stalling?” Jimmy offers, taking a sip of his pint.

“Possibly.”

“Jizz doesn’t taste good but it’s also not gross. Just like I’m sure you don’t think whatever vaginas do are gross.”

“You’re right,” Fi says. “Sorry. Forgive me?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“Are you in love?” Fi asks.

Jimmy laughs. “Mate. It’s way too soon for all that.”

“Oh. Really?”

He nods. “You’ve been in love for so long you forget how it works,” he says gently.

“But you like him,” Fi says.

“Yeah, I like him a lot.”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“Um… I dunno. I guess not, since we haven’t really said that.”

Fi sighs and stands up.

“What?”

Fi shakes her head. She can tell Jimmy’s about to say something when a customer comes over and she’s forced to do actual work. A few more people come in around the same time and she’s kind of relieved just to make drinks and count change for a few minutes.

Jimmy doesn’t forget what they were talking about though, and he asks her about it the moment she’s free.

“Does it upset you that I’m not in love with Tom? Or that he’s not my like, official boyfriend?”

She shrugs. “It’s your life, not mine. You can do what you want.” She turns to pretend to find something else to do.

“Hey,” he says gently.

She stops but doesn’t turn back to him. “What?”

“You can just say it. I won’t be cross.”

“It’s stupid. I’m being a bitch.”

“Well that’s ok too. You’re allowed. It’s just me.” He lets go of her arm.

“It’s just… not fair,” she says quietly.

“What isn’t?”

“You’ve got someone you like who actually likes you back and you’re pissing about.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry,” she mutters. “I told you I’m a bitch.”

“Yeah but that’s why I love you.”

“Oh shut up.”

“I’m not pissing about,” Jimmy says. “I’m just not about to rush into something before I feel ready.”

“I know,” she says grudgingly. “You’re all emotionally mature and crap.”

“I’m really not.”

“More than me,” Fi says.

Jimmy grins. “Well that’s not much of a feat.”

She looks at him with an open mouthed expression before throwing an ice cube right at his face.

“Oi! So unprofessional,” he laughs.

“Just… don’t take it for granted, ok?” she asks once they’ve recovered. “That’s all I ask. Recognize that you’re lucky and you have something I’d kill for.”

He nods. “You’ll have it too, someday.”

“It doesn’t feel like that.”

“I know it doesn’t. But that’s how it feels until suddenly, you have it.”

“Not when you fall for a straight girl.”

Jimmy scrubs his hand down over his face like he’s frustrated. “You’re so bloody thick sometimes, you know that?”

“What, why? What?”

He just shakes his head. “You don’t know how she feels.”

Fi frowns at him. “What are you on about?”

“You can’t assume you know what’s going on in her head.”

“I’m not assuming.”

“Aren’t you, though?” he asks. His tone makes her want to punch him.

“She’s got a boyfriend. She’s always got a boyfriend.”

“Bisexuality is a thing that exists, Fiona.”

“Well why wouldn’t she have told me?”

“You didn’t tell her you were gay,” Jimmy points out.

The urge to turn violent intensifies but luckily she’s got a customer so Jimmy is saved from being murdered for the moment. 

She returns to their conversation after taking a cheeky shot of vodka and a few deep breaths.

“Do you know something I don’t?” she asks. “Has she told you something?”

“No. I’m not saying anything like that. I just think there’s more between you than you’re letting yourself see.”

“Why?”

“Because, Fi. I see the way she looks at you, ok? I don’t know anything, I have no proof, I just feel it in my fucking bones that there’s something there if you both would be honest with each other.”

She has to turn her head away and look out the window for a moment. That kind of wishful thinking is not good for her heart.

“I told her I want her to break up with Aaron,” she murmurs.

“Jesus, really? How’d that go over?”

“She said, ‘then I will.’”

He doesn’t even look that surprised. “And you ask why I think you’re stupid.”

“She just knows I want her to be happy. She knows it’s the right thing for her and for him.”

“Yeah, ok,” Jimmy scoffs. He chugs the rest of his beer and stands up. “Look if you insist on holding yourself back that’s your own choice. But don’t go preaching to me about pissing about, yeah?”

“Where are you going?” she asks weakly.

“To the toilet.”

“Oh.” Relief floods through her. “Ok.” And then, “Can you be less cross at me when you come back? I kind of need you right now. I came out to Dee and I know you don’t think it’s a big deal but like… it is to me. And I could just use your support. Instead of telling me I’m stupid.”

Jimmy’s face falls and he walks right around the bar to gather her up in a hug so tight and enthusiastic he lifts her up off the floor. “Sorry,” he whispers into her hair. “I just want you to be happy.”

He stays there with her until it gets busy and she takes pity and tells him she’ll be alright without him. They’ve talked for hours at that point and things are feeling… well, they feel the same, but at least she got some of it off her chest.

She’s trying not to think about the fact that Dee may very well be breaking up with Aaron right now. 

She tries not to think about the possibility that he’ll convince her it’s a bad idea. She tries desperately not to picture what might be happening right now if they’ve had a heart to heart and decided to rededicate themselves to the relationship. 

It’s a busy night, but not busy enough to keep her mind from spiraling into all the worst possible scenarios.

The second her shift is over she’s out the door and into the cold with her phone in her hand and her heart beating so fast she feels sick. She dials Dee’s number and listens to it ring.

It rolls over to voicemail and she hangs up. She doesn’t want to leave a message. What would she even say?

She forces herself not to ring again until she’s home. Jimmy must be in his room, because she doesn’t see him and she’s glad. She shuts herself up in her own room and pulls her jeans and bra off before burrowing down under the covers to call again.

Again Dee doesn’t answer.

Which is fine. It’s fine. If she’s doing what she said she’d be doing then she wouldn’t be able to answer Fi’s calls anyway. Fi can wait.

And she does, scrolling through every dumb app game and social media site on her phone in an attempt to distract herself. It works for about an hour and then she can’t wait anymore.

This time it doesn’t even ring before it goes to voicemail.

She’s not going to cry. Jumping to conclusions is something she’s very good at, and she’s not going to do that right now. She’s not.

She leaves her phone under her pillow and goes to the kitchen to get something to eat. She settles on a bowl of cereal which she eats over the sink and then goes to bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face.

Once she’s returned to room and changes into pajamas and can’t think of anything else to do she climbs back into bed and fishes her phone out again. 

Her heart sinks. She has a single, solitary text message. It’s from Dee and it’s not what she’d been hoping to hear tonight. 

_sorry. don’t really feel like talking tonight_


	12. Chapter 12

Fi waits a full day before breaking down and sending a text. 

_can you please you tell me if you’re ok?_

Dee waits another day before she answers it.

_i don’t know_

_don’t know if you’re ok or don’t know if you’ll tell me?_ Fi hopes it’ll make Dee smile and not just pissed off.

_shut up, cow_

Fi smiles at her phone. Maybe a bit of both.

_do you want to come over?_

She has to wait a long time for Dee’s answer, long enough that she thinks she’s not actually going to get one.

But eventually, she does. _don’t think i have that kind of energy_

_do you still want to be alone?_

Fi’s phone starts ringing in her hand. She answers it wordlessly and Dee starts talking without introduction.

“I never wanted to be alone, I just didn’t want to talk.”

Fi makes a frustrated sound. “You could’ve told me that. I can’t read your mind you know.”

“I know,” Dee says guiltily. “I know I do this thing sometimes that’s unfair. I push people away and get upset when they don’t show up anyway.”

“You don’t have to push me. It’s me. You know I’m here.”

“I know. I just… I dunno. Maybe sometimes I don’t want you to see me at my worst. I still want to be a person in your eyes.”

“You are,” Fi says softly. “And if you need help I want to be the person who gives it to you.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line and Fi instantly starts to worry she’s pushed too hard.

Finally, Dee asks, “Can you come to me?”

Fi breathes a sigh of relief. “Of course.”

“I have to write a paper.”

“I’ll bring coffee.”

“And food?” Dee asks.

Fi chuckles. “Ok, yeah. And food.”

“Will you sleep with me tonight?” 

Fi’s heart is warm, and it’s not even because of the double entendre. Dee knows the truth now and she still wants Fi to sleep in that absolutely  
microscopic bed with her. “Yeah. I can do that.”

She shows up at Dee’s loaded down with extra large lattés and two bags full of snacks. Her hands are so full she has to kick the door instead of knocking. To her surprise, Dee answers right away, her face fresh and pink and her hair so wet the curls are dripping onto her shoulders. 

“You showered,” Fi says before she realizes the surprise in her voice is a little bit rude.

Dee nods. “I was a mess.” She plucks a bag and a coffee from Fi’s hand and steps back to let her in.

She’s wearing shorts so short they disappear beneath her oversized black hooded jumper. Fi takes even more care than usual to keep her eyes above the belt. 

“So,” she says, settling herself on Dee’s bed while Dee sits in the little chair at her desk. “Have you started this paper?”

Dee groans loudly and forgoes actually answering the question to suck down some coffee.

“When’s it due?”

“By midnight tomorrow.”

“God,” Fi mutters sympathetically.

Dee pulls her legs up and rests her heels on the edge of the chair. “I know. I’m so rubbish this year. Even more than last year which I wouldn’t have thought possible.”

“You’re not rubbish. Nearly everyone procrastinates on essays.”

“It just feels like… a lot. It feels like more than it is.”

“What d’you mean?”

Dee puts her cup on the desk and reaches out to take Fi’s right out of of her hand. She puts that on the desk too and then stands up from her chair.

“Move over,” she demands. 

Fi scootches over as much as she can and Dee flops down next to her. And on top of her a little as the bed is so bloody small. She wraps her arms around Fi and clings, burying her face in Fi’s neck.

Fi strokes her damp hair. “It’s ok little Dee-Dee.”

Dee snorts softly. “Shut up.”

“Never. You can’t make me.”

“Good,” Dee mumbles. “Don’t actually want you to.”

“I don’t want you to either. Talk to me.”

“What should I say?”

“Just… tell me what you’re feeling.”

Dee sighs. “I’m feeling… bad.”

“Ok,” Fi says gently, massaging her fingers against Dee’s scalp now. “Tell me about that.”

“I can’t write this paper.”

“Why not?”

“It feels literally impossible,” Dee says, pulling her face back a bit to rest against the front of Fi’s shoulder. “School feels impossible. It’s like my head starts buzzing as soon as I try to actually do work. And I just…”

“What?” Fi prompts after Dee trails off.

“I don’t care. I don’t care about law. I hate it, I actively hate it. I barely made it through last year and there’s no bloody way I’m going to make it through this year. I can barely drag my ass to half my classes.”

“Ok,” Fi says quietly. Her heart is beating nervous-quick. She has no idea what to say. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Dee whispers. “I’m gonna fail out of school and I’ll never be able to get a good job and I’ll always be stuck feeling like a miserable fucking failure forever and I just don’t know what to do.”

“You won’t fail,” Fi says. “You won’t.”

“I could. I really could. I will.”

“You won’t,” Fi insists.

“But what if I do?” Dee asks. “I’ll have to move out of halls. I’ll have to get a new job. I’ll have to move back in with my bloody parents.”

“No you won’t. You’ll move in with me.”

Dee laughs. “Oh yeah?”

“Course. You think I’m gonna let you leave me?” Fi murmurs. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.”

Dee squeezes her arms a little tighter. “That makes me feel a little better. Even if it’s just shit.”

“It’s not shit. But you’re not going to fail.”

“How do you know?” Dee asks.

“Because you’re going to write your paper tonight and I’m going to help you,” Fi says, sitting up though it rather kills her to put an end to the cuddle. “Then you’re going to sleep. You’re going to take it one day at a time, starting with tonight. Ok?”

Dee’s lying flat on her back and staring up at the ceiling. “I can’t do it.”

“Dee.” Her voice is very gently reproachful. “You can.”

“I can’t. I have no will to give a shit, I’m sorry. I just don’t. I wish I wasn’t like this.”

“I wish you weren’t in pain,” Fi says. “But beating yourself up isn’t going to solve anything.”

“I thought maybe… I thought it might help.”

“Thought what might help?” Fi asks.

“Breaking up with Aaron.”

Fi’s stomach jolts. “Oh. So you did that.”

“Yeah. I said I would.”

“I know, I just didn’t know if—” She stops herself. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

Dee shrugs. “I guess. I dunno. Maybe.”

“Was he upset?”

Dee nods. “A bit. I reckon he’ll get over it pretty quick.”

“Are you… are you missing him?”

“Not really. I think it’s just weird. It just feels a little scary to be like… alone.”

“But you’re not alone,” Fi reminds her. “Not even a little bit.”

Dee smiles. “What would I do without you?”

Fi can’t bring herself to smile back. She’s still reeling. “You don’t feel better? Do you regret it?”

“No. I knew I had to do it. I’ve know it for a long time. I was… it’s like we said. I was stuck.”

“But it doesn’t feel like getting unstuck now?” Fi asks.

Dee takes a moment to think. “Maybe it does. Maybe it feels like one tiny step toward unsticking myself.”

“That’s good!” She can’t quite contain her enthusiasm.

“Yeah. You’re right, it’s good,” Dee agrees. “I guess I just hoped it’d be like a lightbulb, you know? Like, there are probably so many steps. It’s exhausting.”

Fi nods. “It is. But that’s normal, I think. This stuff doesn’t just work itself out in one day. That doesn’t make you a failure. I’m still stuck too.”

“Are you?” Dee asks. 

“Yeah, but… I took a step too.” Her voice has gone quiet and much less confident now.

Dee smiles and reaches out for her hand. “And I’m proud of you for it.”

“I’m proud of you too,” Fi whispers, looking down at their hands, at Dee’s long fingers wrapped around hers and the chipped black polish on her nails. 

“Ugh,” Dee says suddenly, sitting up. “I’m sick of all this.”

“All this…”

“I’m sick of being mopey and boring and sad and shit. I wanna do something fun.”

“Oh. Right now?” Fi asks. “What about—”

“Let’s go out,” Dee interrupts. 

“Out.”

“Yes, Fi. Out. I know I have work I’m supposed to do and I know you wish I would do it but right now I just need you to let me be irresponsible. I need you to enable my procrastination and avoidance because otherwise I will legitimately have a nervous breakdown and go mad, ok? Please.”

Fi can’t bring herself to agree, so she says nothing. She doesn’t know anymore what’s the right thing.

“Ok look,” Dee says, her voice gentler this time. “Come out with me tonight. Enable me tonight, and tomorrow I’ll write the stupid essay. I promise. I just… I need something good. I’ve been sat in this room alone for two days feeling like everything is hopeless. Like I’ll never feel good again. Please help remind me that that’s not true. Please Fi.”

“Ok,” Fi croaks. 

Dee beams. “Where should we go? Clubbing? What’s fun?”

“Definitely not clubbing.”

“I think we should. We should do something that doesn’t feel like us. I wanna do something different, don’t you? Maybe that’s what we need to get unstuck. Just for tonight.”

Fi huffs. She can already feel anxiety clawing at her chest. “You can’t abandon me for some guy.”

“Trust me, I definitely won’t. Men are dead to me. It’s you and me now, babe.” She gives Fi’s hand a squeeze.

And it’s just that simple. Fi wonders if Dee knows the effect she has. Does she know that that’s all it takes?

“Can we just go to a regular bar instead?” Fi asks.

“No! What’s more us than hanging out in a bar? You do that every day anyway.”

“I’m a shite dancer.”

Dee smiles and pulls Fi off the bed. “That’s because you’ve never danced with me before. Besides, didn’t you go clubbing all the time in York?”

“Yeah but… that was for a very specific purpose,” Fi says, her eyes going a bit shifty.

“What purpose?” Dee asks, frowning.

“You know…”

Dee shakes her head. “Need you to tell me.”

“To pull.”

Dee shakes her head and a grin spreads across her face. “You dirty little slut.”

“Oi!”

Dee laughs, long and loud and her dimple pops and Fi thinks it’s worth the slight humiliation to see that again. She can’t resist reaching out and dipping her finger inside that adorably dented cheek. 

“I’m joking,” Dee says, still smiling. “You’re a badass. I wish I’d been there to see you when you were wild.”

Fi forces a smile and refrains from mentioning that she’d never have been hooking up with other girls if Dee had been around to moon over.

“No pulling tonight, though,” Dee says, suddenly stern. “Tonight you’re mine.”

“I’m always yours.”

“Good. That means you have to let me dress you up like a doll.”

Fi sighs. “I draw the line at heels.”

“No heels. You can wear my docs.”

“Fine. Let’s get this over with then.”

She ends up dressed in a very short black dress and Dee’s flowery boots. Her hair is a knot on top of her head that would look ridiculous if she’d tried to do it herself, but of course Dee somehow knows how to make it look good. Her eyes are dark and smoky looking and Dee’s put some dangly things in her ears. 

Even Fi has to admit that she looks good. Nothing like herself at all, but she kind of likes that.

She still has to whine a little though, just to keep up appearances. “Not enough flannel,” she says, looking herself over in the mirror on the back of Dee’s door. “How will people know I’m a lesbian?”

Dee looks shocked for a moment before rearranging her face into something more neutral. Maybe looking nothing like herself makes Fi feel like she can say things she never normally would. 

“Who cares,” Dee says. “No one needs to know tonight, remember? I know.”

Fi looks always from her reflection and over to Dee. “That still feels so weird that you know.”

“Good weird I hope.”

“I think so. Maybe the weird and the good are separate. It’s good but I need time to get used to it for it not to be weird.”

“Am I making you feel weird?” Dee asks.

“No. You’re great.”

Dee smiles. “Well we don’t have to talk about it until it doesn’t feel weird. But I’d really like to. When you’re ready.”

“Ok,” Fi says quietly. “What are you gonna wear?”

Dee shrugs. “What do you think I look good in?”

“Everything,” Fi blurts. It’s like a plug has been pulled or something. She can’t stop with all the bloody honesty.

Dee rolls her eyes. “That’s not helpful, Fiona. I can’t wear my pj shorts and depression jumper to a club.” She walks over to the tiny little wardrobe and rifles through it. 

“Jeans,” Fi says. “Don’t you have red ones? Why do I have an image of you wearing red jeans?”

“Ugh, yeah I do. I dunno why I bought those. I can’t believe you remember that. I probably only wore them like three times.”

“You’re stupid, they look good. Dig ‘em out.”

She does eventually, and tosses them onto the bed. Then she pulls out something back and spins around holding it up. “Can I wear this?”

It’s the gay shirt. Fi’s heart jumps. “You want to?”

Dee nods.

“Ok then, yeah. Sure.”

Dee grins and pulls off her jumper just like that. Fi looks away and clears her throat. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm.”

“Is that when you knew? When you saw that shirt?”

“No. I mean… I dunno. I guess I was never sure but I kinda assumed you were confused or maybe questioning things. But the shirt was a confirmation.”

Fi hears more clothes drop to the floor and then shortly after the sound of Dee zipping up her jeans.

“I guess I chose it for you to wear because I thought that might force you to talk to me. It was a shitty thing to do. I’m sorry.”

Fi shrugs, not even sure if Dee can see her. 

“Are you ok?”

Is she? Fi’s not even sure. She’s suddenly feeling a little more on the bad side of weird. Like she’s been holding herself back for no reason at all, wasting time she could have spent being herself instead of hiding.

She won’t do that anymore. She doesn’t want to hide. She doesn’t want to be stuck.

She turns around. “Let’s go out. Let’s go be different.”


	13. Chapter 13

Fi’s shoulders are shrugged all the way up to her ears. The breeze is downright frosty now that sun’s gone down. She has a denim jacket on but it’s not nearly enough to shield her bare calves - and a large fraction of her thighs, too - from the chill. “My legs are so naked,” she whinges.

Dee is unbothered. “Since when is that a problem for you?”

“Uh since it’s minus twenty billion degrees out, you freaking sadist.”

“Mm.” Dee makes a considering noise. She glances over at Fi briefly and then looks away again. “Definitely more on the opposite end of that spectrum if anything.”

“What, a… what’s’it… masochist?”

“Mhm.”

“You like pain?” Fi asks.

Dee just shrugs.

“Then why am I the one wearing a minidress outside in October? I’m definitely not a masochist. I hate pain.”

“Maybe I just wanted an excuse to look at your legs.”

Fi would laugh it off instantly if not for the fact that Dee never looks over with a smirk. She keeps her eyes fixed forward as she walks. It doesn’t really feel like a joke, but this whole night has been full of weird moments where Fi’s not exactly sure how to read her, so she reckons she’ll just add this to list.

Dee did just have a rather big break up, after all. Maybe being weird is her way of processing.

Fi clears her throat. “Hey Dee? Did you wanna, like, talk? About—”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dee interrupts again. “The answer will be the same.”

Fi huffs. “Fine.”

“We’re being different, remember?” Dee reminds her. “That means not talking.”

“We can’t talk?”

“Only about fun stuff.”

“Well what’s fun?” Fi asks, only slightly petulant.

Dee laughs. “That right there is the reason we need this night. We don’t even know what fun is.”

“I have fun.”

“Do you?” Dee challenges.

“Yes. I do. All the time. More fun than going to a club of sweaty drunken strangers who’re probably just gonna be all over you.”

Dee looks at her then with an eyebrow cocked.

“And me,” Fi adds, to save face. “Maybe. I dunno. Probably, since I look exactly like a straight girl in this dress.”

Dee smiles. “You still don’t.”

“I don’t?”

Dee shakes her head. “I think that haircut I gave you is… not straight.”

“Well… thanks?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m here to butcher your look whenever you want.”

“You said it looked good!” Fi squawks.

“It does. I love it. It’s like, edgy or something. It’s cool. You pull it off where most people couldn’t. Probably because of that face.”

Fi reaches up to touch her own cheek. “This face?”

Dee laughs again, breathy and sweet. “That’s the one.”

Fi looks down at her feet and hopes Dee can’t see her grinning so stupidly. She sees Dee’s flowery boots on her own feet and her heart skips a beat to remember she’s dressed head to toe in Dee’s clothes. For a moment the cold doesn’t even touch her.

And then it kind of hits her right in the chest when she realizes maybe there’s a reason Dee’s so keen to go out right after breaking up with her long term boyfriend.

“Is that what you’re hoping will happen?” Fi asks quietly, afraid Dee will be angry but needing to ask anyway. She needs to emotionally prepare herself for this.

“What?”

“Like, are you hoping guys will be a over you or whatever?”

Dee gives her a cutting look. “No. Why would you think that?”

“I don’t,” Fi lies. “I’m just asking.”

“I told you men are dead to me.”

Fi nods.

“I just want to hang out with you,” Dee says. “Or I did. But you have to stop saying dumb shit.”

“Ok. Sorry.”

“In fact why don’t you take me to one of your bars? Or clubs or whatever.”

Fi frowns. “What? I only have one.”

“No, idiot, not your work. I mean like, _your_ bars.”

Fi just stares at her blankly.

Dee rolls her eyes. “You know. Like… gay.”

“Oh. Ohhh,” Fi says, realization dawning. “Really?”

“Yeah. Definitely. That’d be fun, don’t you think?”

Fi actually laughs a little. She’s just… relieved. God, she’s pathetic. “It could be fun, yeah. I mean, more fun than one filled with straight dudes, definitely. But here’s the thing.”

“What?” Dee asks, barely containing her annoyance, Fi can tell.

“You’ll still have people all over you. Only it’ll be birds and not blokes.”

Dee shrugs. “Not if I just stick with you all night.”

“Will you?” Fi asks.

“Yes!” Dee exclaims. “Stop doubting me! This night isn’t about me wanting to have fun, it’s about me wanting to have fun with _you_. Stop being weird!”

“Ok!” Fi exclaims back, laughing a little. “I’m sorry!”

“Yeah, you fucking should be!”

Fi reaches out and pushes her in the shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Never, that’s not my thing,” Dee says. “So, where to?”

“How should I know?”

“Uhh, because you’re the gay one?”

Fi rolls her eyes. “I’m also the boring one. The only gay clubs I go to are the ones Jimmy drags me to and those don’t tend to have a whole lot of women in them.”

Dee clicks her tongue, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Bad friend.”

Fi doesn’t say that Jimmy’s offered to go with her to lesbian clubs about a hundred and one times and she always refuses because… well because she doesn’t actually want to be hit on by other girls. Her heart is frozen in its desire for one very particular girl.

“Vanilla,” Dee announces.

“What?”

“Vanilla. It’s the first thing that came up when I googled lesbian bars in Manchester. Apparently it’s the ‘lesbian mecca of the north.’”

“Wow,” Fi murmurs.

“Shall we go?”

“Are you sure you want to?”

Dee reaches out and takes Fi’s hand. “Yes, Fiona. I want to.” She squeezes.

Fi squeezes back. “You don’t have to… you know. Like, to show me your support. You don’t have to do stuff like this.”

“It’s not about that,” Dee says softly. “I just want to get pissed and dance with you.”

“You do?”

Dee nods. “And I wanna do it somewhere you feel safe. So can we go?”

Fi suddenly realizes this isn’t about Dee showing support for her at all, it’s actually about _Dee’s_ need to be supported.

She smiles. “Yeah, definitely. Vanilla it is.”

Dee looks back down at her phone. “We’re actually already headed in the right direction. Can your naked legs handle another… twenty minutes?”

“If you buy the first round,” Fi says.

“Deal.”

From the outside Fi would never guess that this place is a bar at all, much less a mecca of any sort. It’s a small standalone building painted grey with retro photographs of good looking people on the front. It’s too dark for her to make out what’s in the speech bubbles floating above the people’s heads, but she likes it. It looks so totally unassuming.

They can hear the music from the outside. It’s loud but not as loud as some clubs she’d been to her in her uni days, and the line of people waiting to be let in is perfectly reasonable. The bouncer doesn’t look too much like a douchebag and the vast majority of the people inside are women.

They check their coats and then Dee grabs her by the hand. She leans in close to Fi so she can hear her and says, “Drinks.”

Fi nods. Clubs are strange places when you’re stone cold sober, and she’s not used to being on this side of the bar. It’s almost jarring that kind of shift in dynamic, but Dee’s still holding her hand and her promise of sticking together all night is still fresh in her mind.

She’s not going to ruin this for Dee by being anxious, so drinks are a must.

She can feel eyes on them both as they make their way to the bar. It’s not surprising. Fi isn’t too modest to acknowledge that she’s attractive enough and tonight she’s got a lot of herself on show, so to speak. And Dee, of course, is just… Dee. Fi grips her hand a little tighter and grins to herself as she lets her lead her through the crowd. Like this it’s easy to pretend this means something a little more.

“What do you want to drink?” Dee has to half shout to be heard over the volume of the music.

“Surprise me,” Fi shouts back.

Dee manages to get served surprisingly quickly. She hands Fi her drink when it comes and Fi smiles. She already knows what it is just from the look of it but she takes a sip first to humour Dee.

“Sex on the beach,” she says, grinning. “Good choice.”

“Someday I’ll order something that’ll surprise you.” Dee takes a long sip of her own. “God. These are good. Why don’t you ever make me these?”

“You never order them, dummy.”

“Can you imagine how shite that’d be, though?” Dee asks.

“What, ordering something other than beer?” Fi gives her a confused look.

“No, stupid. Having sex on a beach.”

“Oh.” Fi laughs, then shrugs. “I dunno. Could be fun.”

Dee scrunches up her face. “Think of the sand. Think of all the places it could go.”

“What if you did it in the water?” Fi suggests.

Dee’s eyebrows lift up. “Good point.”

“Have you never…?”

Dee practically chokes on her drink. “Have you?”

Fi doesn’t know what’s come over her. She’s barely had two sips of her drink. She can’t even reasonably _pretend_ she’s drunk.

Maybe she’s just taking to heart what Dee said about being different tonight.

“Not on a beach, no. But… in water.”

“Details. Now,” Dee demands.

Fi chuckles and has to look away when she says, “Hot tub.”

“Oh my god,” Dee says, shaking her head. “Who are you?”

Fi shrugs, smirking sheepishly and downing her drink just shy of a chug. Turns out maybe she likes feeling different.

“I guess it’s easier to be discreet if there isn’t like…” Dee trails off.

“What, dicks?” Fi asks bluntly.

Dee punches her in the shoulder but then says, “Yeah.”

“It can be, I guess. If there are no mouths involved. Which obviously there aren’t underwater.”

Dee nods. “Sex isn’t worth drowning over.”

“Well, I didn’t say _that_.”

Dee punches her again and Fi laughs, a proper laugh where her tongue pokes out a little.

“You’re a dirty birdie, why didn’t I know that?”

Fi just shrugs. She doesn’t really have a good answer. She can’t really say that hearing about Dee’s sex life always makes her feel twisty and awful inside. She finishes her drink and says, “Reckon I need another.”

“Jesus, wait for me, mate.” Dee takes a long drink of hers but she still has a ways to go to catch up.

Fi shakes her head. “I’ll get the next round while you finish that.”

She orders their drinks and Dee’s just finishing the last of her cocktail when two shots and two glasses of Red Bull are placed in front of them.

Dee recognizes it for what it is right away and looks appropriately horrified. “Jagerbombs? Seriously?”

“What’s less us than this vile shit?” Fi says, picking up one of the shot glasses and holding it above her glass. “C’mon, let’s do it.”

“Are you trying to kill me?” Dee picks up her shot.

“Remember, you have to neck it all in one go or it doesn’t count.”

“Ugh.”

“Ready?” Fi asks.

Dee nods.

“Three, two, one, go!” They drop their shots into the glasses and pick them up to drink. It doesn’t even matter to Fi that it’s gross and stupid, it’s fun to toss it back and watch Dee do the same, her head tipped back and her neck stretched out and a little bit of liquid dribbling down her chin.

Fi finishes first, slamming her glass down a little too hard on the bar in her excitement. Dee’s not far behind, but she looks pained as she finishes and wipes her sleeve against her chin.

“Can’t believe you made me do that,” she mutters.

“You loved it,” Fi teases. “You wanna do it more.”

Dee doesn’t say anything. She’s suddenly got a very intense look on her face that makes Fi’s stomach do a weird flippy thing.

“What now?” Fi asks to distract herself from it.

Dee grabs her hand yet again. “Now we dance before you make me sick with your nasty drink orders.”

Fi doesn’t argue. The music here isn’t so bad and she feels sufficiently loosened up.

Dee pulls her over to the part of the club where everyone is kind of smushed together and grinding up on each other. They weave their way through the writhing bodies until they find a spot with enough room for the two of them.

Not a lot of room, though. Not enough room not to be somewhat pressed together. Dee takes Fi’s other hand and starts moving. She leans close to Fi’s ear. “Don’t make fun of my awkward dancing,” she warns.

“You know mine will be a thousand times worse.”

Dee scoffs. “Not with your hips, girl. C’mon.” She tugs Fi a little closer. “Dance with me.”

Fi throws her insecurities to the wind and starts moving too, absolutely positive her hips don’t stop her from being stilted and awkward, but Dee grins so wide there’s no mistaking her joy in this moment.

A couple songs pass and Fi starts to feel like she might be getting the hang of this. She’s just tipsy enough to be having fun but not near enough to feel sick or lose control of herself. Dee’s not holding Fi’s hands anymore but she’s looking at her with that intensity again.

“What?” Fi shouts to be heard over the music. “Am I that bad?”

Dee leans in. “There’s no universe where you’re anything but hot right now, Fi.”

A little bit of Fi’s resolve to protect herself cracks. Dee’s words rock through her and for once she doesn’t even try to explain them away platonically. She reaches out and hooks her hand around Dee’s lower back and pulls her in closer, until there’s scarcely any space between them at all.

Dee doesn’t resist. She doesn’t laugh. She crosses her arms around the back of Fi’s neck and keeps dancing, both of her thighs bracketing one of Fi’s.

Fi’s heart is in her throat, but she’s not nervous. It’s the first time in what feels like years she isn’t nervous or anxious or unsure of herself in any way. She’s got no idea what this means or if it even actually means anything, but right now she doesn’t care. Right now her hand is pressed against the bare skin just above the low waist of Dee’s jeans and she can smell Dee’s perfume and a hint of rum and cranberry. If this moment means nothing more than a night of closeness she’s going to cling to every second.

“Everyone here is looking at you,” Dee whispers, all warm and soft right in Fi’s ear. A hot chill runs all the way through her and she grips Dee a little tighter. Suddenly all the years of restraint feel they’re coming crashing through and she just wants to dig in with her nails and teeth and feel Dee from the inside out.

And overreaction to be sure, a violent surge of pure wanting, but it feels good. It definitely feels different. It feels more like the person she’d like to be than the person she is.

“You could have anyone,” Dee whispers.

Why is she saying this shit? Does she know? Does she know what it’s doing to Fi, both in her head and physically, in her body, between her legs, on the surface of her skin and the pit of her stomach? Is she doing this shit on purpose?

“I’m good where I am,” Fi says back. Does it have an effect on Dee, anything even close to what Dee just did to her?

She wishes there was some way to know, to ask without having to deal with the consequences if the answer is no. The most she can do is read into the way Dee’s arms tighten around the back of her neck and she grinds down a little on Fi’s leg. The friction of jeans on her bare skin will probably start to hurt eventually, but at the moment it’s the single hottest thing she’s experienced in her life to date.

They keep on like that for ages, song after song until Fi’s thighs are burning and there’s the slip of sweat where their skin touches. Fi’s not sure if it’s hers or Dee’s or some combination of the two, but she doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t plan to. She’s not stopping until Dee says so.

Eventually she says so, grabbing Fi’s hand and pulling her out of the throng. It’s only then that Fi notices the sweat glistening on Dee’s forehead.

“I’m gross,” Dee shouts, dropping Fi’s hand when they have their own space again.

“Uh, I beg to differ.” She wipes her damp hands on the back of her dress and tries to be subtle about it.

Dee swipes the sleeve of the gay shirt across her forehead. “God. I’m sweating like a pig.”

“You are not,” Fi argues. “You’re glowing.”

Dee snorts. “Is it ok if we go? I’m knackered. You wore me out.”

Fi smiles. She feels it too, but she’d have stayed all night if Dee wanted to. “Of course. D’you want me to call a cab?”

Dee shakes her head. “Air will be good. Unless you really don’t wanna walk.”

“Walking is good.”

They get their coats from coat check and make their way outside. Dee wasn’t wrong, the cool air feels absolutely amazing. Fi’s ears feel muffled slightly after hours of loud music blasting into her brain and it’s nice to back in the real world, even if it means they’re not touching each other anymore.

“You were right,” she says. “That was really fun.”

Dee is pulling her curls up into a ponytail. They’re extra wild from the dampness of her sweat, frizzy in a way Fi knows Dee hates even though it’s nothing but adorable to her.

“Yeah,” Dee says. “It was. You’re a good dancer.”

“And you’re sweet for trying to lie to me.”

Dee shrugs and Fi instantly feels bad for rejecting the compliment.

“Did you get what you were looking for?” Fi asks softly as they walk. “Do you feel different?”

Dee shrugs again. “A bit.”

“Not enough?”

“I dunno. It just… nothing ever lasts. Like, the rush of doing something different fades and then I’m just me again.” She crosses her arms over her chest like she’s giving herself a hug.

“I don’t know if this’ll just piss you off but… I like who you are. I mean, I want you to feel better, of course, but I like when you’re just you.”

Dee gives her a weak smile. “I know. Thank you.”

They fall quiet after that, and the space between them feels like miles after spending half the night glued together. They walk down the streets mostly empty of pedestrians and watch the storefronts they pass. Every once in a while something will be open, but mostly their lights are off and their windows hold signs reading _closed_

“Did you wanna be alone?” Fi asks.

Dee looks over at her like she’d forgotten she was there. “No. Definitely not. Aren’t you staying with me tonight?”

“Yeah of course, if you want me.”

“Fi, you daft cow.” She steps to the side and links her arm through Fi’s. “I literally always want you.”

“You’re so quiet.”

“I’m just thinking,” Dee says, leaning her head down on Fi’s shoulder. It makes it a whole lot harder to walk but Fi doesn’t mind. They’ve got nothing but time.

“What are you thinking abou—”

Her question is cut short when Dee grinds to a halt, staring at the shop they’re stood in front of. Fi nearly falls over at the sudden stop, then turns to look and is surprised by what she sees. First by the fact that it’s open, and second by the fact that Dee is burning holes into the window with her eyes.

“What?” Fi asks.

“Let’s go in.”

“What?” There’s the strain of fear in her voice now. “Why?”

“What’s less us than this?” Dee asks, finally turning away from the glaring red lights in the window to look at Fi’s face. Her cheeks are flushed with what could only be excitement.

“Literally nothing, and for good reason,” Fi says flatly.

“Please Fi.”

“Are you actually genuinely serious? Like… really?”

“Yeah, I’m well serious. This is perfect.”

“Is it?” Fi’s voice keeps pitching up higher as the realizations settles in that Dee isn’t just taking the piss.

“Yeah. It really fucking is. I wanna do this. With you.”

“With me?”

“Yes!” She’s shouting, but it’s a happy shout. “You pick mine and I’ll pick yours!”

“This is mad!” Fi shouts back.

Dee grabs Fi’s shoulders. “I know! That’s the whole fucking point!” She takes a breath to calm herself down and tries again. “Look. Ok. Listen. Do this with me and I’ll owe you. I’ll owe you big. I’ll owe you like, five favours I absolutely can’t say no to on penalty of like… something bad.”

“Ten,” Fi says, arms crossed. “Ten times where I tell you to do something and you can’t say no or I’ll ring your nan and tell her what you did.”

Dee winces. “Fuck, ok. Deal.”

“Alright,” Fi says, resigned to her fate. “Let’s get this over with then.”

Dee grins and jump-hugs her, squeeing her delight. Fi pushes her off and towards the door of the shop whose window glows red with the letters _TATTOO_.


	14. Chapter 14

She’d never given a single moment’s thought to ever finding herself in a situation like this, and now that she’s in it she really understands why. It’s mildly horrifying, really. The slightly chemical smell, the buzz of the needle gun.

God. Needle gun. That’s probably not what it’s called but really, that’s what it is, so does it even matter? What could be worse than a needle gun?

The sound. The sound of it makes her muscles tense and she isn’t even on the receiving end of it yet. She’s sat in the little waiting room area, her leg bouncing restlessly, Dee beside her looking all too casual for a decision as reckless and impulsive as this one. 

They’ve both got clipboards on their laps, pens to papers warning them of all the things that could go wrong and making them put in writing that they consent to doing this batshit crazy thing. 

Fi leans over and hisses, “It says you can’t be drunk.”

“We’re not,” Dee whisper-shouts back. “I’m not. Are you?”

Fi thinks about it for a moment, tries to take stock of how her body feels but she’s too tightly wound to know for sure. “I dunno.”

“It’s gonna be fine, Fi. It’s gonna be fun.” Her eyes are all lit up with excitement, sparkling even in the ugly fluorescent lighting of the shop.

“It’s gonna hurt,” Fi mutters, signing her name at the bottom of the page.

“Only for a few minutes. I’ll hold your hand the whole time.”

“Promise?”

Dee smiles. “Course. C’mon.”

They stand up and hand their papers to the bored looking girl at the front desk. Her hair is blue and she has full sleeves of ink on her arms. She’s chewing gum with her mouth open and looks generally unfriendly which makes Fi feel even worse. She just does not belong in a place like this.

Blue haired girl looks them up and down and asks, “You wanna go together?”

Fi nods frantically.

“James’ll be with you in a sec,” she says, pulling out her phone. “You can wait over there.”

“Thank you,” Dee says cheerily, pulling Fi back to the chairs they were sat in before. Her energy is that of someone who’s nervous in an excited kind of way.

Fi’s is… not. She’s just the nervous kind of nervous. The sweaty palm, bouncing leg, racing thoughts kind of nervous. She looks up at the walls of the shop, plastered with tacky tattoo designs and art that looks way too edgy and goth to make her anything but even more nervous.

“We don’t even know what we’re getting,” she says quietly to Dee.

“I’ve got an idea,” Dee muses.

“You do? For me?”

Dee gives a small smile. “Mhm.”

“What is it?”

“Uh uh,” Dee says shaking her head. “Want it to be a surprise.”

“Seriously?” Fi’s voice is pitched up way too high.

“Fi, relax, babe.” Dee puts a hand on her knee, fingers warm against her skin still chilled from the midnight air. “Take a breath.”

Fi listens, forcing air into her lungs and breathing it out, and again and again until she doesn’t feel quite so close to the edge of a panic attack. It’s hard with that constant angry buzzing sound and that unforgiving fluorescent bulb illuminating ever single solitary freckle on her legs.

“I don’t have any ideas for you,” she croaks. “I can’t really, like… think right now.”

Dee nods. “It’s ok. Maybe… should we just get matching?”

Fi stops her leg bouncing. “You’d do that?”

“Yeah, course, why wouldn’t I?”

Fi actually manages a smile at that. She instantly loves the idea of having a permanent mark on her body that Dee will also have. “Ok. Ok, I kind of like that.”

“Good! I want you to like this. I know you’re scared but like, this is so cool. Don’t you feel like a badass right now?” She grabs Fi’s hand and squeezes it so tight it hurts.

Fi laughs. “Maybe if I get through this without fainting. Or vomiting.”

“Pfft nah, you’ll be fine.” Dee nudges her gently in the ribs. “ You’ll _ace_ this.”

Fi kicks out at her foot. “Shut up.”

“I’ll shut up your mum.”

“I’ll shut up your face,” Fi retorts. “Are you really not gonna tell me what it is? You want me to go into this blind?”

“Do you trust me?” Dee asks. Suddenly she’s looking into Fi’s eyes and the teasing banter has ceased. She’s really asking. She really thinks she needs to ask.

“Of course.”

“To give you a pretty tattoo that you won’t hate?”

Fi frowns. “You wouldn’t give me something I’d hate. You wouldn’t.”

“Good. Glad we’re on the same page here. I’ve picked something nice for us.”

Fi’s about to say something when a man’s voice says, “Ladies.”

Fi jumps a little but Dee grins. “Hi.”

“‘Ello. I’m James.”

Dee introduces the both of them to James, much to Fi’s relief. She smiles at James and hopes she looks less nervous than she feels. Something about that buzzing just has her on edge. It’s drowning out any resolve she might be able to find to calm herself down. It just sounds so… threatening.

James on the other hand looks surprisingly normal. Fi likes to fancy herself an open minded person but honestly, maybe tonight is challenging that assumption a little bit, because she feels strangely comforted by the fact that James’ hair is a normal human colour and his tattoos are much less numerous than she would have assumed from someone who does this for a living.

They blend nicely into his dark brown skin, making them look a little less of a blunt contrast than they’re likely to look on Fi’s own skin, which admittedly is some of the palest human genetics can create. On James they look nice, like they were always meant to be there.

Also he has a nice smile. That’s neither here nor there, but Fi had been expecting someone a lot more gruff and intimidating.

“You wanna come back here with me and we’ll have a little chat?” James asks. He could’ve been a doctor or something with a bedside manner like this.

“Yep!” Dee springs up and pulls Fi with her. 

They follow James back to a little booth with a stool and a plush looking bed thing. He pulls up on it and suddenly it’s a chair. He motions to it. “One of you have a seat, I’ll grab another, one sec.” He goes away and comes back with another chair and they all sit down

“So,” he says, smiling. “What are you looking for tonight, loves?”

“Tattoos,” Dee blurts.

James chuckles. “I figured that much. Got anything in mind?”

Dee’s cheeks go a little pink, but she pulls out her phone and types something in. “Ok, I have an idea, but I can just show you and maybe you could like, design it however you want?”

He nods. “Definitely I can do that.”

“We’re gonna get the same thing,” Dee continues. “But I don’t want her to see.”

“Ooh, secret girlfriend tattoos, nice. I like it.”

Fi’s stomach plunges, but to her utter shock, Dee doesn’t correct him. “Right?” She turns to Fi. “Don’t look.” She holds up her phone for James to look at whatever she’s got pulled up on her screen. 

“Ok, ok, I got it. Nice. You thinkin’ black or colour?”

“Actually I was thinking like… both? Like black with a tiny bit of… that colour…” She points to her phone. “Like right there, y’know? And maybe like, a minimalistic kinda style?”

James nods. “Ok ok, I gotcha. Shouldn’t be too tough.” Suddenly he looks over at Fi. “You’re cool with your bird picking something out for you like this?”

Fi smiles and nods. For an instant she doesn’t feel scared at all anymore. Just hearing him casually refer to Dee as her ‘bird’ has her distracted from absolutely everything else. She’s not quite sure why Dee hasn’t said anything but she’ll take it. Just for now it’s nice to pretend.

He claps his hands together. “Alright then. If you lot wanna sit tight for a few minutes I’ll go sketch that up and print out a stencil. What size were you thinking?”

Dee indicates with her hand and James nods. “Be right back.”

When he’s gone Fi starts to feel nervous again. It’s so bloody exhausting having to feel all this heart racing stomach clenching shit. She wishes she could just be cool for once. Like Dee is.

“How are you so calm right now?” Fi asks, wiping her palms on the denim of her jacket.

“I’m not. I’m just better at hiding my freak outs than you are.” She smiles. “Also I’m really fucking excited.”

“Who’s gonna go first?” Fi asks.

“Mm, I think you should. Otherwise you’ll be watching me all afraid and it’ll just be like prolonged suffering and I don’t want that for you.”

“Oh god. Oh god.” It’s starting to set in now. This is real. This is really happening.

“Fi. You know you don’t have to do this. Like, you really really don’t.”

“I said I would.”

“Yeah I know but I didn’t really give you much of a choice and you’re shitting bricks right now and I don’t wanna do it like this. Like, I don’t wanna force you.”

“You’re not. I’m sorry. I wanna do this for you, I really do. I just like… don’t know how not to freak out.”

“Lemme ask you something,” Dee says softly. 

Fi nods. 

“What are you actually scared of? The pain?”

Fi shrugs. “Not really. I know it’s gonna hurt a bit but like, I’ve heard from enough people by now to know it’s not really that bad unless you get something really huge or in a place with lots of bones or something.”

“Do you think I’m gonna pick something awful?” Dee asks.

“No.”

“Are you afraid someday you won’t want a permanent reminder of this night you had with that annoying mopey girl you used to put up with?”

Fi gives her a pointed look. “Dee,” she says quietly. “No. Of bloody course not.”

Dee smiles, just a small one. “Ok, good. So is it mostly just anxiety?”

Fi nods. “Plus the gun makes a scary noise.”

Dee laughs. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s not a nice noise. But remember, I’ll be here holding your hand. And we’ll be matching.”

“We’ll be matching forever,” Fi says, her voice sounding much warmer and more sentimental than she meant for it to but then James is there again.

“That was quick,” Dee says cheerfully.

“Told ya. Alright so who’s up first?”

“Me.” Fi thinks she manages to sound not quite as terrified as she feels.

“Awesome. Come sit over here.” 

She and Dee switch spots and Fi sits on the plush black leather opposite James’ stool. She notices on his desk there’s a framed photo of a smiling little boy who looks just like him. For some reason that makes her feel a little better too.

“So where do you want this?” James asks.

“Uhhh…” She looks over at Dee helplessly.

“Want me to choose?” Dee asks.

Fi nods. “Somewhere that’s easy to hide from my mum.”

James and Dee both get a hearty chuckle out of that one. Dee stands up and walks over and takes a considering look at Fi, a look so long and careful that Fi starts to feel a little warm under her skin. Then her breath is catching in her throat as Dee is reaching down to push Fi’s dress up her thigh, her fingertips dragging lightly across Fi’s skin. She stops just before she gets to the bottom line of Fi’s knickers, but she doesn’t move her hand away until after she’s said, “Right here.”

Fi doesn’t start breathing again until Dee’s hand is gone and James is saying, “Perfect. I just have to give it a quick shave.”

Fi gives him what she’s sure is a startled look and he says, “I know it sounds weird, but we always do it, not matter where the tattoo is going. There’s peach fuzz on pretty much every little bit of skin on the human body and it messes the tattoo up if we don’t remove it.”

So he shaves her upper thigh which is definitely the weirdest freaking thing ever and then he cleans her skin with something that smells sharp. Before she knows it he’s pulling gloves on and Dee says, “Ok now you have to look away!”

She’s so excited. It makes Fi’s heart swell. If it makes Dee this happy there’s no way it could be a mistake.

“Here,” Dee says, dragging her chair over and lacing her fingers between Fi’s. “Just look at me. Talk to me.”

“But first, lie down,” James says, fiddling with the chair so the back is laid straight down again. “And take a deep breath.”

Fi looks at Dee as she lies back, eyes locked onto the warmth and encouragement she finds there. She’s gripping her hand in a way that will probably embarrass her to remember later, but in this moment it feels completely and entirely necessary. 

“Don’t forget the deep breath part,” Dee says softly.

“That bit’s really important,” James says. “Don’t want you passing out on me.”

Fi nods solemnly and breathes in deeply. “Jimmy’s gonna freak.”

“Who’s Jimmy?” James asks.

“Her flat mate,” Dee answers. “And I reckon if anything he’ll be proud of you for pushing your comfort zones a bit, yeah?”

Fi has to grudgingly agree. How is it Dee knows Jimmy better than her?

“Ok Fi,” James says softly. “I have to tuck your dress out of the way now, that alright?”

There’s a fluttering of fondness in Fi’s chest that she almost never feels for men she barely knows. This man seems to be a gentle one through and through. One considerate of the fact that this is strangely intimate even if it is only professional.

She nods and he very carefully tucks the end of her dress in under the bottom of her underwear to keep it secure so the spot on her thigh that Dee had indicated is bare and ready.

“You good?” James asks. “Ready for me to start?”

Fi nods. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Don’t forget to breathe,” James says. “It sounds daft but people sometimes forget and that’s how I end up with clients on the floor with messed up tattoos.”

“I’ll make sure she breathes,” Dee promises.

James smiles. “Perfect. Ok, here we go.”

That awful buzzing starts again only this time it sounds so much louder, like a whole swarm of very angry bees.

She squeezes Dee’s hand even harder when the dreaded needle gun comes down on her skin. A swarm of angry bees is quite an apt description of the sensation as well as the sound. It feels like stinging, like a very mild, drawn out burn.

Dee leans in right close to her face, still clutching Fi’s hand. “What does it feel like? Is it awful? Take a breath, Fi.”

Fi takes a breath and realizes she’d definitely been holding it. Her lungs fill with oxygen and strangely it’s then that she feels like she can actually do this, that it’s not as scary as she’d been building it up in her mind. “It feels weird,” she croaks.

“Painful?”

“Yeah but not too bad. You’ll probably like it.”

Dee snickers. “Why? ‘Cause I said I’m a masochist?”

Fi nods. “That’s what this was all about, wasn’t it? You just wanted to subject me to your weird kinks.”

“Oi,” James says then. “This is a kinkshame-free zone.”

Dee grins wide, ear to ear with her dimple popping. “Thanks mate.”

For a moment Fi barely feels the pain at all. She hasn’t seen Dee smile this much in… well… she can’t actually remember the last time she’d seen her look so unreservedly full of joy. 

“So James,” Fi says, following the surge of adrenaline she’s feeling from Dee’s smile and the pain of the gun. “What are your weird kinks, then?”

He and Dee both make surprised laughing noises and Fi knows even if her tattoo turns out looking like shit this whole experience will have definitely been worth it.

“Can’t you tell?” he asks. “I mean, I basically hurt people for a living.”

“Oh god,” Fi says.

“Nah, I’m taking the piss, love. I don’t think I really have any. I’m about as vanilla as they come.”

Something weird happens then. Dee smirks and James looks over at her and winks.

Fi is instantly distracted from that though when Dee says, “There’s no way you’re more vanilla than Fi.”

Fi lifts her head a little to give Dee a death glare. “I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you.”

Dee looks proper shocked and James chuckles. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

As the tattoo progresses the pain slowly gets worse, the sensation of burning intensifying and Fi just has to close her eyes and grit her teeth and squeeze Dee’s hand to get through it. Dee is stroking the back of her hand with her thumb which is a really lovely distraction.

After what honestly feels like an eternity James turns off the gun and says, “She’s all done.” He puts some kind of liquid on a cloth and wipes it over the spot on her leg that is now extremely sore.

“Thank god,” Fi croaks. She sits up and looks at Dee. Her head swims a little but all she can think about is the fact that there’s something new on her body that’s going to be there til the day she dies and she still doesn’t even know what it is.

“Can I see it?”

Dee nods excitedly. Fi takes a deep breath. “D’you wanna like, count me down or something?”

“Three, two, one, look!”

Fi looks down and her first reaction is overwhelming relief. It’s just how Dee had described it: pretty, minimalistic, the black outline of a flower with delicate touches of white on the petals and soft yellow in the center.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs. She looks up Dee. “What is it?”

Dee’s voice is equally hushed and soft. “It’s a vanilla flower.”

Tears spring to her eyes immediately, before she even feels like she’s had time to actually react. She’s not going to let them fall in front of James because that would be a mortification she couldn’t withstand, so she looks away from the sincerity on Dee’s face back down to the permanent reminder she now has of this night she spent with the girl she loves.

The girl who loves her back. In whatever ways Dee loves her. It may not be everything, it may not be all the ways Fi longs for, but Dee definitely loves her.

“It’s perfect,” she manages to say. She looks up at James. “Thank you.”

He smiles. “I’m glad you like it, love.”

“My turn!” Dee exclaims. 

She’s so bloody excited. It’s going to take a concerted effort on Fi’s part not to weep like a small child. “You’re going to get the same thing?” she asks, hopping down from the chair onto slightly shaky legs.

“Yeah, course. Matching forever, remember?”

Fi smiles and nods and watches Dee lie down where she’d just been. James cleans everything up and sanitizes his tools and goes to print a new stencil. It takes a while but Fi sits on the extra chair right next to Dee’s head and they chat until James is finally ready.

“Where am I putting this one, then?”

Dee looks at Fi. 

“You want me to choose?” Fi asks.

“It’s only fair.”

Fi takes a moment to look at Dee, just to look at her body from her feet all the way up to her neck, but her eyes get caught halfway up their course on the way the crop of the gay shirt is exposing a strip of the soft pale skin on her stomach. Without thinking too much Fi reaches for it and touches that smooth skin, pushing the shirt up and up, dragging her fingertips lightly against the bumps of Dee’s ribs until she gets to the spot just below her breast.

“Right here,” she murmurs.

“That’ll be a sore spot,” James warns.

“Good.” Fi grins, tearing her eyes away from the evidence that Dee definitely isn’t wearing a bra. “She likes that.”

Dee punches her. “Shut up, cow.”

Ten minutes later Dee’s got Fi’s hand in a vice grip and she’s saying through gritted teeth, “I changed my mind. Definitely not a masochist. Fuck.”

“Sorry,” James says, sounding one hundred percent sincere. “You’re doing really well. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“But I already know it,” Dee croaks. This time it’s Fi’s turn to share a laugh with James.

“You can do it, DeeDee,” Fi coos. “You’re a badass.” 

“Ugh shut up, I hate you. This was a stupid idea why didn’t you stop me? You’re supposed to be the sensible one who keeps me doing dumb impulsive shit.”

“Oi,” James says. “This is art, this is.”

“Sorry mate, no offense and shit but— ah. Fucking fuck fuck, oh my _god_ , you really are a sadist.”

James chuckles, but somehow manages to stay intent and focused on his work. “We’ll be done soon. You can do it. And a rib tattoo entitles you to a lifetime’s worth of bragging rights.”

“Does it?” Her eyes are squeezed shut tight. 

“Mhm.”

“Well in that case…” Her face scrunches up and always there is the droning buzz of the gun. Fi’s sure she’s going to hear it echoing in her ears all night, long after they’ve taken leave of this place and are tucked up under Dee’s covers.

Eventually it’s finally over and Dee actually does cry a little bit when she sees it. James tells them how to perform proper aftercare and they each give him a big squeezy hug. They pay what feels like a steep price for something so small and Dee agrees to let Fi call for a car to take them back to halls at Manchester.

It’s cold outside as they wait. The shop closes up as soon as they leave and it feels very dark and barren. Fi shivers, the adrenaline starting to wane. She feels sore and hungry and cold and utterly exhausted. 

She turns to look at Dee to tell her as much and finds that Dee is already looking at her, that same intense look she’s been sporting ever since… 

Fi has to think. She reckons ever since that day Dee had appeared at Fi and Jimmy’s place talking about not knowing herself and begging Fi to let her cut her hair. Fi realizes things haven’t really felt normal between them since that day.

“What?” she asks quietly. A look that intense is sometimes too much for her to bear without really knowing why it’s happening.

Dee opens her mouth and then shuts it. “Nothing.”

Fi takes a step closer and drapes her arm across Dee’s shoulders. “You know, we have matching tattoos now. We’re officially bonded for life. You can tell me things.”

Dee snickers. “Is that how it works?”

“Mhm.”

“What makes you think I have things to tell you?”

“Your face,” Fi says bluntly.

Dee grins and touches her cheek. “This face?”

“That’s the one.”

Dee chuckles again and looks down at her feet for a while before saying anything. “This face _might_ have things it wants to tell you.”

“Great. Let’s hear ‘em.”

Dee looks up and into Fi’s eyes and their faces are so close Fi can feel the warmth of Dee’s breath and she might be imagining it but it feels like the distance between their faces is very slowly getting smaller and her heart is beating so fast so feels like she might choke on it and Dee is so beautiful in the glow of the street lamp and her mascara is smudged a little and her face is definitely getting closer and then—

A car pulls up in front of them and the window rolls down. A man says, “You Dee?”

Dee steps away and Fi’s arm falls heavily back to her side.

“Yeah,” Dee says. “Yeah.” She opens the back door and climbs in. She sticks her head back out when Fi can’t seem to tell her feet to move. 

“Fi, you coming?”


	15. Chapter 15

Fi’s thigh burns. It feels almost exactly like she’d laid out in the sun all day and forgotten to put sun cream on just that one little spot. She can feel the tape that holds the gauze in place itching against her skin. She wants to reach down and scratch at it but James had specifically warned them both not to do that under any circumstances. 

Dee is quiet. She’s watching out the window as their driver takes them back to campus. Her knees are crushed up against the seat in front of her, her legs too damn long for this little car.

Fi’s are too but she can barely feel it with the itch and the burn occupying all the space her mind has available for physical complaints.

But even then most of her brain is still focused on what had happened on the wet pavement outside the shop. Or perhaps more accurately, what she thinks was _about_ to happen.

But probably that had just been wishful thinking, the rush of doing so many things tonight that made her feel like someone different. 

Or maybe Dee had been feeling different too, just for a moment. 

She seems very much herself now. The self she’s been lately anyway: quiet and melancholy. Eyes staring off at something Fi suspects she’s not even really seeing. 

Fi takes a chance and nudges her knee into Dee’s leg, relief blooming when Dee smiles after the initial startle fades. 

“Hey,” Fi says, smiling back.

“Hi.”

“Do you kind of feel like your tattoo might be on fire?”

“Oh my god, yes,” Dee says emphatically. “It’s like borderline unbearable.”

“I wanna scratch so bad.”

“We can put more lotion on when we get to mine.” Dee shoves her hands between her butt and the seat. “Until then we must resist.”

“I still can’t believe we did that,” Fi murmurs, pushing her dress aside enough to see the tape and the gauze as confirmation. 

“Believe it, bitch. We did that.”

Fi laughs and drops her head back against the back of her seat. “We did.”

“Cheers for basically choosing my tit, by the way.” She reaches out and shoves Fi’s shoulder “That wasn’t painful at all.”

“It’s not your tit!” Fi protests. “It’s just… under it.”

“Yeah you’re right. My actual tit would’ve hurt much less. S’just a bag of fat.”

“A pretty bag of fat,” Fi says automatically. Her stomach plunges instantly and she looks at Dee’s face in fear.

Dee’s just smirking faintly. “You think my tits are pretty?”

“What, no. Dunno what you’re on about.”

Dee’s grins gets a little wider. “You like my tits.”

Fi rolls her eyes. “I like all tits.”

Dee reaches up and cups hers rather crudely. “Even tiny ones like mine?”

Fi has to look away then. She’s feeling a very confusing onslaught of feelings, some of which are in direct contrast to one another. “They’re alright,” she mumbles, staring out the window as rain starts to fall.

“Mhm,” Dee hums skeptically. “You keep telling yourself that, Lester.”

Fi’s not sure what to say now. She hasn’t at all adjusted to Dee teasing her for her queerness. She knows she should probably like it, but for some reason right now it just… doesn’t feel good. 

“I’m tired,” she murmurs. 

“Me too. Thanks for coming out with me. I reckon it helped.”

Fi turns back to face her again. “Yeah?”

Dee nods. 

“You remember you have a paper to write tomorrow?” Fi asks gently.

“Trust me, I remember. Not looking forward to it. Are you working tomorrow?”

Fi shakes her head.

“So you’ll stay.” She doesn’t frame it as a question.

“Reckon you’ll send me out for food, but yeah,” Fi says, nudging Dee’s leg again. “I’ll stay.”

“You’re an angel, an actual real life angel,” Dee says. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t start with that bollocks,” Fi warns. “I’ll be there but I’ll be lounging in your bed the whole time. It’s not like I’m gonna write the damn thing for you.”

A few minutes later the car drops them off and they shiver as they dart into the building. The adrenaline has pretty well fully worn off by now and they’re both freezing and exhausted. As soon as they get to Dee’s room Fi practically dives for the bag of snacks she’d brought earlier. 

She flops back onto Dee’s bed and tosses her a packet of crisps before tearing into her own.

“You’re gonna get crumbs on our bed,” Dee whines at the same time as she flops back and does the exact same thing.

“Yup,” Fi mumbles over a whole mouthful of crumbs. “Reckon we will.”

Dee kicks her trainers off so hard they hit the door. 

Fi snorts. “We’re so classy.”

“I ain’t been classy a day in my life and I don’t plan to start now.” She gives Fi’s foot a kick. “Take my boots off idiot, you’re gonna get the bed wet.”

“Can’t. Too tired. These are part of my feet now.”

“You lazy tyke,” Dee scoffs. “Just take your hands and undo the laces, then you can kick them off.”

“Can’t,” Fi insists. “I don’t have hands.”

“Then what are you using to shove crisps into your face?”

“Sheer determination.”

Dee flips over suddenly onto her hands and knees, straddling Fi’s legs. “Well I’m determined not to sleep on wet sheets tonight.”

Fi surprises herself by remaining curiously chill. Possibly because it’s very early in the morning and she’s loopy and exhausted, possibly because this night has been filled with so many moments that could only be reasonably explained by the fact that she’s dreaming that she’s losing the will to remain shocked with each escalation. 

Dee walks herself backwards a little and Fi just lifts one of her legs out from between Dee’s and holds it up. “Here ya go.” The hem of her dress falls onto her stomach and she doesn’t even care that her underwear is exposed. Her shame has apparently taken the rest of the night off.

“Lazy,” Dee murmurs again, pushing herself up off her hands and getting to work unlacing the boot.

Fi nods, stretching her arms above her head and yawning. “Mhm, so lazy.” She looks down her body to watch Dee pull the boot off and drop it onto the floor.

Ok, maybe her brain had just been taking a quick power nap, because suddenly it’s going into overdrive again, along with her heart rate - and her breathing, which kind of just… stops, catching in her throat at the way Dee is looking at her. And holding her foot in her big warm hand. And straddling the leg attached to the foot that still sports a flowery Doc Marten.

“You have the best legs.” Her voice sounds all dreamy and soft like she’s not actually here but somewhere far away, speaking from behind a veil of clouds.

“Have you seen yours, though?” Fi says. This time it’s her bravery that surprises her. Maybe she should have all her conversations with Dee when she’s too tired to filter herself.

“I have,” Dee says. “They don’t interest me much.”

Fi props herself up on her elbows and cocks an eyebrow. “And mine do?”

There’s a moment, a few seconds of tension so palpable Fi thinks she could actually reach out and feel it with her fingers. 

Then it snaps and Dee looks away, dropping Fi’s foot back onto the mattress. “Gimme your other foot,” she orders.

Fi lifts up the other leg, this time reaching down to make sure the dress stays where it belongs. She has a sour feeling in the pit of her stomach like she’d suddenly pushed things too far. Dee pulls off the boot without ceremony and hops down off the bed. 

“M’gonna go brush my teeth,” she announces. 

Fi sits up. “Can I come? My teeth need brushing too.”

Dee gives her a flat lipped smile. “Reckon we should go separately. I need a wee.”

Fi works hard to keep the frown off her face. Dee has used the toilet in front of her approximately a billion times before so it’s clearly an excuse. She just doesn’t want to be near Fi at the moment. “Ok.”

“I’ll go quick, I promise. I’m so knackered I’m about to pass out.”

Fi wants nothing more than to curl up into a ball and cry as soon as Dee’s gone, but instead she gets up and all but rips Dee’s dress off her body. She grabs her backpack and yanks out the t-shirt and pj bottoms she’s brought and puts them on.

They’re comfy and soft and well worn and familiar, but right now they feel like armour. They feel like a nice solid layer of protection from the _differentness_ of tonight that made her too bold, made her think it was ok for her to do and say things she’s always known she should keep to herself. 

She rips her hair out of its bun and takes her earrings out. She wants to wash the makeup off too, but that’ll have to wait until morning. She’s absolutely done feeling different. She wants to be herself again. Her true self is someone who knows how to protect herself from being let down. 

Herself is someone who wouldn’t have a burning spot on her thigh right now. She crawls up onto the bed and shimmies under the covers because suddenly she feels very much like she actually is going to cry and she can’t let Dee see her face because she’ll see it there instantly and she’ll ask what’s wrong and Fi knows she won’t have a good excuse.

What’s wrong? Oh nothing. I’m just too in love with you to know how to carry on without making a fool of myself, that’s all. I’m so desperate I convince myself that things that mean nothing actually mean something and then it feels like my heart is cracking in half when you remind that they really _don’t_ mean anything. It’s no big deal. 

The door creaks open a few minutes later and Fi doesn’t turn around, her tears already staining the pillowcase. She has to stay here now.

“Fi? What’s wrong?”

Apparently she doesn’t even need to see her face to know. Damn.

“Tired,” Fi croaks. “I’ll brush my teeth in the morning.”

Dee doesn’t say anything. Fi hears the soft sound of clothing hitting the floor and then the room is plunged into darkness. The bed dips behind her, but somehow Dee manages not to touch her at all, even though this bed is the world’s smallest single.

It just makes Fi want to cry harder, but she bites it back, the lump in her throat growing thick and painful. It’s so quiet in the room she can’t even sniffle. Instead she holds her breath and listens to Dee’s.

“Goodnight,” Fi chokes out eventually, when the silence is so much it threatens to deafen her.

Dee is quiet so long Fi thinks she’s not going to answer. And then, “Can I ask you something?”

“Ok,” Fi whispers, stomach clenching.

“How did you know you were into girls? Like how did you know it wasn’t just, like, a girl crush?”

“Uh…” Her head feels like it might be spinning a little. She hadn’t been expecting a question like that.

“Is that bad to ask? I’m sorry.”

Fi takes a deep breath. She can’t screw this up. “It’s not bad, sorry. I just don’t really know if I have a good answer. I’ve not really thought about it like that.”

“Did you always know?” Dee asks. “Maybe that’s the difference.”

“The difference?”

Dee is quiet awhile again. “I guess you were never into blokes? So that made it easier to tell?”

Fi rolls onto her back and her arm brushes against Dee’s. “I think I tried to be. Or like, I thought that’s just how it was, you know? Like, I assumed everyone felt the same?” She sighs. “I dunno how to explain it.”

“I think I get it,” Dee says quietly. “When you’re young you just assume everyone feels everything the same way you do, yeah?”

“Yeah, exactly. Like, I didn’t get crushes on boys but I just figured like, it was normal, or it would happen eventually. I never heard any of my mates talking about having crushes on girls so I guess I just thought that was what friendship felt like?”

“That’s sad,” Dee whispers.

“It wasn’t that bad. I didn’t feel sad then. I don’t think I understood anything well enough to be sad.”

“So when did you know for sure?”

Fi takes a moment to think. “I don’t really know if there was like a lightbulb moment. Nothing was ever that clear cut.”

“But you’re not into men, are you?” Dee asks.

“I don’t think so. I never have been so far.”

“What about Ollie?”

Fi chuckles. “Definitely not. Actually, come to think of it, maybe that was what helped me understand that I truly felt differently than other people. I just… was not into him. Like, at all.”

“But not being into men is different from being into women, isn’t it?”

Fi props herself up on her elbow, even though it’s too dark in the room to really see anything. “I don’t know. I mean, yeah. I’m just not sure what you want me to say. I always felt things for girls for as long as I can remember.”

“Ok. I’m sorry I asked.”

“What?” Fi says. “No, don’t be. I’m just sorry I don’t have the answer you’re looking for.”

“You told me you weren’t ready to talk about this stuff anyway,” Dee says quietly. 

“Well… I am. It doesn’t feel bad. I think I was scared for nothing. It felt scary that you knew but now it just feels, like… like why was I so worried?”

“Why _were_ you worried?” Dee asks softly. 

And now Fi really doesn’t know what to say. Because an honest answer to that question is the kind of thing she has to keep to herself. Tonight has taught her that if nothing else. So she just says, “I don’t know.”

“I hope by now you know there’s nothing you can’t tell me.”

Fi snorts. The whole too tired to filter thing.

“What?” Dee asks.

“Nothing, sorry,” Fi mutters, dropping down onto her back again and rolling over to face away from Dee. “It’s just… not always that easy.”

Dee’s sigh is so soft and quiet Fi barely hears it. “Yeah. I know.”

“I wish it was. It’s part of the whole feeling stuck thing.”

“Feeling stuck in not telling people things?” Dee asks. “Or in not telling me, specifically.”

Fi can’t answer as she’s chewing on her lip rather aggressively. She supposes in a way that’s as good an answer as any.

Eventually Dee says, “Hey, remember how we got tattoos tonight?”

Fi giggles with relief for the change of subject. “God. Yeah. We’re lunatics.”

“Do you regret it already?”

“No. Makes me feel like a proper cool person.”

Dee shoves at her. “You’ve always been cool. You’re the coolest person I know.”

“I think you’re getting me confused with you.”

Then Dee’s arm is wrapping around Fi’s waist and squeezing and her voice is warm right in Fi’s ear. “Will you shut up and stop being a stupid git, please?”

Fi risks reaching down to lay her hand on top of Dee’s where it curves around the spot just above her hip bone. “Sorry, can’t.”

Somehow Dee gets ever closer, pushing herself up against the back of Fi’s body. Fi can feel Dee’s knees pressing into the backs of her thighs. She can feel Dee’s teeth biting gently into her neck.

“Do you know that you drive me fucking crazy?” Dee whispers.

Fi doesn’t know what that means. It’s all so bloody confusing. She’s got whiplash from all the mixed signals, but Dee is spooning her so assertively and Dee’s mouth was on her neck just a moment ago and Dee is whispering in her ear so… fuck it. Fi’s just going to choose to just enjoy it. 

“Yeah,” she croaks. “Ditto.”


	16. Chapter 16

Morning dawns what feels like two seconds after Fi’s heart stops racing enough to finally fall asleep. There’s life outside the cinderblock walls of Dee’s room, the vaguely nostalgic bustle that could only come from students, barely more than children but with the heady feeling of being on their own for the first real capacity in their young lives. Sometimes Fi misses that, the feeling of excitement and not dread at the thought of being responsible for yourself.

She’s letting herself romanticize what is actually just the sound of footsteps and the occasional shout. Something about being on campus makes her feel keenly how much her own life has changed since it revolved around school and exploring things she hadn’t had the courage to back home. They were simpler times. In many ways nicer times, although this is nice too, even if it is tinged with more than a little heartache.

She’s kind of pressed up against the wall a little, but also Dee’s arm is draped across her stomach. Their bodies under the duvet have created a warm little cocoon that Fi decides then and there she’s going to be selfish enough not disturb, even though Dee really should be getting up and starting work on her paper. Fi reckons she’s earned this. Her thigh is still burning. She reaches down to yank the gauze off and bites her tongue to keep from yelping at the way the sellotape tugs at her skin.

She doesn’t understand why she’s awake. Usually she sleeps like a bag of rocks.

Apparently she’s refusing to acknowledge that things feel incredibly up in the air, that she never sleeps well when she’s anxious and big scary things are happening in her life.

But nothing is happening. She needs to remind herself of that. The undeniable truth is that Dee is acting strange, but it doesn’t mean anything is actually happening. She’s just gone through a break up and learned that her best friend is a lesbian. She’s… confused?

She’s depressed. Maybe worse than Fi’s ever seen her. Her brain chemistry isn’t right. Fi needs to remind herself of that too. She needs to stop being so self-centred, so self-pitying. Dee doesn’t need her best friend in the world hitting on her to add to the free fall.

Then she has a flash memory of teeth on her neck and she wants to scream. It’s too much for her to bear.

She needs Jimmy. She needs someone to be blunt, to talk sense into her. She reaches her hand under her pillow before remembering her mobile is still safely tucked away in the clothes she’d been wearing last night.

Almost as if Dee can sense the unease on Fi’s mind, she starts to stir, tightening her grip around Fi’s waist. Fi can feel her nuzzle her face right into Fi’s hair.

“You awake?” Fi asks quietly.

“Mm.”

“Did I wake you?”

“I dunno,” Dee croaks.

“Sorry.”

“Shh. Cuddle time.”

Fi laughs, the sound mostly just breath. “Is it?”

“Mhm.”

“What time is it?” Fi doesn’t want to sink back into feeling like any of this means anything more than it ever has. It would be all too easy and the let down afterwards hurts too much.

“Who gives a toss.”

“Well, you do have a paper to write.”

Dee groans loudly. “Fucking tit wanks.”

“Yeah,” Fi says sympathetically, reaching her hand behind her to pat the top of Dee’s head. “I know.”

Dee yawns long and loud before rolling over onto her back, relinquishing her grip on Fi’s waist in the process. “Did we get tattoos last night? Is that actually a thing we did in real life?”

“Check under your breast, Howell.”

“Ugh, don’t say breast,” Dee grumbles as she sits up.

Fi laughs a little. “Why?”

“S’not sexy.”

“I wasn’t actually trying to be sexy. Am I always supposed to be trying to be sexy? Is that why I’m still single, I don’t talk sexy enough?” The words feel clunky as they exit her face.

When Dee doesn’t immediately answer, Fi sits up to look at her. She looks… Fi’s not sure. Definitely not happy, anyway. She’s frowning faintly.

“What?” Fi asks quietly.

Dee shakes her head. “I don’t know why you’re single. You don’t talk to me about that shit.”

“Yeah well, now you know why, don’t you?”

Dee’s head turns to face her sharply, surprise at Fi’s cutting tone written all over her face. Surprise that then melts into something conciliatory. “Sorry. That was shitty.”

“Yeah,” Fi agrees, for once not caring that it might make Dee feel a momentary twinge of pain.

“I have a headache.”

Fi manages to swallow down the sigh she wants to make, but she lies back down and pulls the duvet up to her chin. “You need coffee and food I reckon.”

It’s not like her not to respond to what is clearly Dee asking for sympathy, wanting attention, or maybe just to be looked after for a little while. Usually Fi would jump at the chance but at the moment she’s rather tired of being the one who has to jump. She’s just… tired.

So she rolls onto her side and faces away from Dee, genuinely intent on going back to sleep.

“You’re cross,” Dee says quietly.

“Nope. Sleepy.”

“I should get up and start working on my stupid essay.”

“You should,” Fi says through a yawn. The bed creaks and Dee’s feet make a soft noise as they hit the floor.

“Are you not gonna get up with me?”

Fi should probably not be reveling in how confused and small Dee sounds. But she is.

“Not now. I don’t have a paper to write. I’m sore and sleepy and it’s my day off so I’m gonna have a lie in.” She curls her knees upwards and slides a hand up under her pillow. These uni beds are awful but Dee’s pillow is not. It’s soft and plush and smells like the overpriced fancy shampoo Dee likes.

“Your phone is ringing.”

Fi rolls over. “What?”

Dee squats down to the pile of clothes on the floor and fishes out Fi’s mobile. She holds it up to indicate that it is, in fact, ringing.

Fi doesn’t really care, but she still asks, “Who is it?” just for something to say.

Dee takes a quick glance at the screen. “Jimmy.”

“Ooh! Gimme.” She makes a grabby hand in the phone’s direction, suddenly anxious to answer it before the call rolls over to voicemail.

Instead of handing it over Dee just drops it onto the mattress and turns away. “I need the toilet.”

Fi doesn’t respond, too busy scrambling to retrieve the buzzing phone from the seemingly endless folds of sheet and duvet. The door is just slamming shut behind Dee as Fi answers.

“Jim.”

“Oi, you didn’t come home last night. Wanted to check in as apparently you can’t be arsed to let me know you’re not dead.”

“Sorry,” she says, sinking her head back down against the pillow and looking up at the ceiling. It’s so nice to hear his voice right now. “Last night was mad.”

“What, really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, dickhead.”

“Are you still at Dee’s?” he asks.

“Mhm.”

There’s a momentary silence before Jimmy all but shouts, “Well hello! Tell me about the madness!”

“Ugh, don’t even know where to start. I kind of feel like I got hit by a lorry. I need coffee. And a new life.”

See can practically _feel_ Jimmy rolling his eyes. “Good god you dramatic cow. Are you in her bed right now?”

“Yes.”

“Well get up,” Jimmy demands. “Put some clothes on and meet for tea.”

Fi groans. “Can’t you just bring it to me?”

“Get up,” Jimmy says, completely unsympathetic. “I’m hungover and I need caffeine. And to hear about your debauchery.”

“There was no debauching. I’m still me.” Even to her own ears she sounds a little sad and over dramatic there.

Jimmy clicks his tongue.

“You’ll be proud of how stupid I was last night, though,” she adds quickly. “Proud or disappointed, I’m not sure which.”

“Get up. Get dressed. I need to hear all about it.”

“Fine. But I’m getting coffee, not tea. And you’re not allowed to shout at me.”

Jimmy scoffs. “No promises there, mate. Get up,” he says for the millionth time and then hangs up without so much as a ‘see you soon.’

Fi’s just pulling on her jeans when the door opens and Dee returns, hair wild and eyes lined deeply with a darkness that gives Fi’s heart a painful twinge. “Did you get much sleep last night?” she can’t help asking.

Dee ignores her. “Are you leaving?”

“Meeting Jimmy for coffee. I can come back after.”

Dee pushes past her in the cramped space to sit at the chair by her desk. “Don’t do me any favours.”

Fi’s not even sure she can put her finger on why they’ve resorted to passive aggressively sniping at each other, but she’s at least going to try not to make it worse. “I’ll bring you back a coffee.”

Dee doesn’t even look up from her laptop. “K. Bye.”

Fi’s stomach is in knots as she closes the door behind her.

Jimmy’s already sat on a sofa at Starbucks waiting for her when she gets there. He smiles and waves her over and she can’t even manage to smile back. The long walk had done nothing to ease the tension in her body or the sinking feeling that something had been irrevocably changed for the worse over the course of last night.

“Got you some ridiculous caramel monstrosity,” he says as she slumps down next to him.

“Thanks.” She picks up the ceramic mug and chugs down a good third of the contents in one go.

His smile fades. “What’s with you?”

She toes off her trainers and pulls her feet up before laying her head down on his shoulder. “I literally don’t know where to start.”

“You’re upset?”

She shrugs.

“So when you said mad, you meant in a bad way.”

Fi sighs. “I don’t know, Jim. I thought stuff was good. It was good and then it was _really_ good and then it was insane and then it was bad and then good again and now it definitely feels bad.”

“Christ, woman. Drink some more coffee.”

She obeys, picking her mug back up and sipping more slowly this time, enjoying the actual taste. “Why are you hungover?”

“Went out, that’s all.”

“I went out too,” she informs him.

“Oh yeah? Where, a film or something?”

“No, like out out. To a club.”

He turns his head to look at her. “No way?”

She nods. “Ever heard of Vanilla?”

He looks at her incredulously. “You took Dee to a lesbian bar?”

She rolls her eyes. “You shouldn’t know that. You party too much.”

“I’m a bloody history teacher, Fiona. I have to balance out the sheer uncoolness of that somehow.”

“It’s not uncool. You don’t think it’s uncool. You love it.”

“Yeah, but it makes me feel old. I’m too young to feel old.”

Fi rolls her eyes again. “You’re stupid is what you are.”

“And you’re stalling. You took the girl you’re in love with to a lesbian club, don’t think I’m not gonna demand details.”

“Don’t call her that.”

“What?”

“Don’t— you can just call her by her name, you don’t have to keep reminding me how pitiful I am.”

Jimmy frowns. “I wasn’t—”

She waves her hand to shut him up. “Anyway, I didn’t take her, she basically took me. It was her idea.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “That’s… interesting.”

She nods. “It was.”

He waits a while for her to elaborate. When she doesn’t he nudges her with his knee. “And…?”

She shrugs. “We drank a bit. Danced.”

“Too vague. Danced like how, like friends or like…?”

She lifts her head up off his shoulder and looks away. It had felt so magical last night, but now it just leaves a sour feeling in her gut remembering it all. “I don’t know.”

“Shit,” Jimmy mutters. “Was that the really good part?”

Fi nods, biting her lip and continuing to avoid making eye contact with him. “She was kind of, like… all over me. And she was… she was saying these things that…” She looks back at him helplessly.

He’s still frowning. Fi shrugs. “I’m just confused.”

“What else happened?” he asks quietly, finally seeming to understand that she’s not in a good way, that she might be on the verge of a complete emotional breakdown and he’d do well not to take it lightly.

She looks around the shop to see if it’s safe to show him her brand new body art. It isn’t; there are people milling about all over the place, so she grabs his coat off the arm of the sofa and uses it to cover herself up while she unbuttons her jeans and pulls them down a little.

“The fuck are you—”

She pulls the coat to the side just for a moment, just long enough for him to see before covering herself again and yanking her trousers back up.

Jimmy’s eyes are bugging so hard she’s afraid they might fall out. “What the fuck is that?”

“It’s my new tattoo. Dee picked it out.”

“Are you…” He trails off, scrubbing his hand down his face. “What is that?”

“It’s a vanilla flower,” she mutters.

He looks confused… until he doesn’t.

“She got a matching one,” Fi adds, perversely enjoying the way his face manages to go even more shocked. And maybe a little disapproving. Maybe more than a little.

“That was her idea?” he asks after he’s gotten some kind of control over himself.

Fi nods.

“And you actually did it.” Definitely disappointed.

“I didn’t come here for a lecture,” she says flatly.

“Ok. What for, then? How long are you going to let her do this to you?”

Her mouth falls open. She snaps it shut, then opens it again to defend herself.

Then closes it again. She’s got no good response to that. He’s just being honest, which is what she’d claimed to want in the first place.

“I thought… it felt different, last night. She was… like—” She huffs a heavy, frustrated breath. “She was acting different.”

“What happened?” he asks quietly.

“Nothing. Nothing happened. I said one tiny thing and she just… shut me down. And then this morning…” She just looks at him, pleading with her eyes for him to save her. “It’s just. It’s too confusing. At least before it was like… she had Aaron and didn’t know I’m gay and it was all just in my head. Now it’s fucking… it’s all fucked.”

Jimmy is quiet. Too quiet. He picks up his tea and sips it and she wants to punch him for making her say all this stuff if he isn’t even going to do so much as lie to her and tell her it’ll be ok.

“Say something,” she demands.

He looks her dead on. “Reckon you don’t want me to.”

“What is that supposed to mean? Why not?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

She huffs again, angry this time. “Just say it.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t said before. You have to actually fucking talk to each other.”

She slumps back against the sofa, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m always the one talking. I’m sick of talking. I tell her things and she tells me nothing.”

“I think she tells you things,” Jimmy says, leaning back to mirror Fi’s posture. “I think she just uses less words.”

“If that’s true then what she’s telling me is that she likes fucking with my head.” God, she’s cursing so much today. Sometimes it feels like all Dee brings out is the worst in her, the parts that make her feel crazy and out of her own control.

She feels heat behind her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re taking her side.”

“I’m not. There are no sides here, Fi. You’re not at war.”

“Oh, piss off.”

“Look,” he says, somehow stern and pleading at the same time. “I want what I think is best for you. And sometimes that means making you hate me a little. But you have to understand what it looks like to me, from an outside perspective.”

“What?” she spits. “What does it look like, James?”

He sighs. “It looks like two people who are in love with each other and too scared and stupid to just tell each other so.”

“She’s not,” Fi whispers, her voice trembling. “And fuck you for saying she is. Why would you want me to believe that even for a second? You’re just going to make the crash worse.”

“She picked you out fucking matching lesbian tattoos, Fi. You’re stupid. Not always, but in this one way you’re just so bloody stupid.”

“You know,” she says, standing up. “This is really not what I needed. I needed a friend. I needed you to just be my friend today. Why can’t you do that? Why can’t you just be a mate?”

He looks up at her sadly. “I am, Fi. Good mates don’t lie to each other.”

“They do if the other one is literally begging to be lied to. Sometimes lies are comforting.”

“Sit,” he says gently, reaching up to take her hand. “Please.”

She sits, but stays perched on the edge of the sofa like she could make a run for it at any second.

“You said you’re confused,” Jimmy continues. “Yeah?”

Fi nods.

“Because sometimes it feels like there’s something more there?”

She bites her lip and nods again.

“So why don’t you tell her? Why can’t you tell her how you feel? What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I could lose her,” Fi chokes. “I could ruin everything.”

“You think she’d let that happen?” he asks. “You think she’d throw away a lifetime of friendship over something like that?”

Fi wants to be able to say no with confidence. She wants to be able to say she knows Dee will be here no matter what. But the truth is, Fi doesn’t know that. Because finding out that your best friend has been in love with you for a good portion of their life seems like the kind of thing that really could crack a friendship in half irreparably.

“I don’t know,” she says simply.

“Ok, forget that, then. Think of it like this… do you feel good right now? Is this really a feeling you want to protect?”

Fi hides her face in her hands and braces herself to splinter into a million pieces when Jimmy’s arm slides around her shoulder and squeezes. She melts into his chest instantly and he holds her properly and lets her blubber into his shirt so no one else can see or hear it.

“It’s going to be ok,” he murmurs. “It is. I promise.”

She shakes her head. “It shouldn’t feel like this. It’s just a… just a crush. It shouldn’t feel like the sky is falling just because she doesn’t love me back.”

“It’s not a crush,” Jimmy says softly, stroking the hair at the back of her head. “You’re in love.”

“I don’t want it anymore,” she says, voice wobbling dangerously. “I don’t like this.”

“I know. Love is a bitch. Life would be so much easier without it. And Fi?”

“What?” she sniffles.

“Don’t kill me but— you don’t know. You don’t know she doesn’t love you back. And even if she doesn’t love you in that way, you know what you are to her. She wouldn’t let anything come between that.”

“Shut up,” Fi mutters, all her ire completely evaporated into the air with the smell of coffee beans and steamed milk.

“I will. I’ll shut up now. I’ll just be your mate.” He squeezes around her shoulders a little tighter.

Fi stays tucked up against his chest for a long long time, long enough that she knows both of their drinks have gone cold but she can’t quite bring herself to care.

She wants to forget everything. She wants to shove it all down into a deep dark place and pretend everything is fine and that her life is what she wants it to be and that she’s ok with letting things be what they are. Denial is good, avoidance is her friend.

Only, it isn’t. Because she’s been denying herself everything for years and it’s starting to feel unbearable now, the weight of a lifetime’s worth of putting herself second, of living in fear.

She reckons she’s having a revelation right now and honestly, she thought it would feel better:

“You really think I should tell her?” Fi asks.

“I think you should think about it,” Is Jimmy’s reply.

Fi nods. She doesn’t think she’ll be doing much thinking. She’s pretty sure she knows what has to be done.


	17. Chapter 17

She’s going to do it. She’s going to be brave. She’s going to give them both the gift of honesty.

Soon. Very soon.

Like maybe next week or something.

She says goodbye to Jimmy after about an hour and two more cups of coffee and now she’s taking her time on the walk back to campus with a chai for Dee burning slightly against her palm because she’d ordered it extra hot in the hopes it might still be a drinkable temperature by the time she got back.

She’s not sure if the long walk back is good or bad, honestly. She’s not sure if her mind needs time to breathe or if all she’s actually doing now is festering.

She knows Jimmy is right. Jimmy tends to be right about a lot of things when it comes to Fi, and Fi usually _knows_ he’s right when he says things that make her want to punch him in the face.

She knows she needs to tell Dee how she feels, because at this point the pining is toxic and the confusion feels bad enough to come between them in a very real, very potentially-friendship-ruining kind of way and that’s the one thing Fi simply can’t abide. She can suffer through a lot of things with teeth gritted but losing Dee to her own cowardice is not one of them.

She tries not to think about the possibility that she could also lose Dee _because_ of her bravery. There’s really no perfect solution here. She just has to pick the lesser of two evils, and if she has to go down she’d rather not go down a liar.

But not today. Today she’ll shove everything down and help Dee write her paper. She’ll go home later tonight and cry in the shower and hopefully Jimmy will be patient enough to let her cuddle up to him for the second time in the same day. Maybe he’ll even let her sleep in his bed and remind her why honesty is the best policy.

She feels like a scared little puppy for all her vulnerability when she knocks on Dee’s door and just has to stand there waiting with the possibility that Dee doesn’t want to let her in. There’s a lingering warmth against her hand from the paper cup but the rest of her body is as cold as ice.

The door opens. Dee looks exactly the same which shouldn’t be surprising but somehow is. Fi feels like her whole world has shifted; shouldn’t there be some evidence of that beyond the racing of her own heart?

“You came back,” Dee says flatly. She really does look exhausted.

“Of course. I told you I would.” She holds out the cup.

Dee takes it without thanks, her eyes never moving from Fi’s face. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t.”

“Do you need some space?” Fi asks. Is she hoping Dee says yes?

“No.” She steps back to let Fi inside.

The silence between them is excruciating. Dee closes the door and Fi sits on the edge of her bed. She wants to kick her shoes off and pull her feet up to tuck under herself but suddenly she feels like a stranger in this cramped little room.

Dee sits at the desk and puts the cup down without taking a sip. Her laptop is open to a word document that has one paragraph of words typed out.

Fi was gone for long enough that she’d hoped there would have been more, before quickly realizing it’s likely her fault for derailing Dee’s ability to make any real kind of progress. Did she really have to choose today for… whatever is happening now?

“You don’t have to stay,” Dee says, voice flat.

“Oh. You want me to leave?”

Dee shrugs. “That’s not what I’m saying. But I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”

Fi’s stomach is churning, the coffee from earlier threatening to make a reappearance in a nasty way that she really doesn’t fancy. “Are we fighting right now?” she blurts.

Dee swivels the chair a little to face Fi more directly, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her heels on the edge of the chair. She’s doing that thing where she tries to make herself smaller.

It works. She looks like a child who’s just realized she’s lost her mummy in the aisles of Tesco. “It feels like we are,” she says sadly.

Fi’s stomach somehow manages to plunge a little further. “I don’t really understand why.”

Dee shrugs. She just shrugs, looking away not saying anything at all.

Fi’s telling the truth. She doesn’t really understand what’s happening between them at the moment, but that’s been true for a while now. Last night was like stepping foot into someone else’s life and today feels like a splash of ice cold water right to the face.

But Fi doesn’t trust herself anymore. She can’t trust that any of it was anything more than Dee feeling a little fucked up over a breakup and the sudden admission of her best friend’s sapphic tendencies.

Last night felt different. But the signs are too hard to read and it’s starting to make her crazy, and now it’s hurting Dee too.

And that’s simply unacceptable.

“I’m in love with you.”

Dee’s eyes snap up to meet Fi’s and Fi somehow has the strength not to look away. She’s not going to pretend she hasn’t said it.

But she’s not strong enough to sit with this kind of vulnerability, so she stands up. “Sorry. Fuck. I wanted to wait til after…” She grabs her backpack off the floor and looks away from the shock on Dee’s face.

“You what?” Dee asks quietly. “You’re…”

“I’m gonna go,” Fi says, taking a few steps towards the door. “You don’t need this today.”

Her hand is on the door handle when she feels fingers close around her arm firmly to stop her. Dee tugs and Fi turns reluctantly to face her again and -

Dee’s hands are gripping either side of her face and their mouths are pressed together. Dee’s lips are on Fi’s lips and it’s a little too forceful to be anything but a shock. It doesn’t even feel like a kiss, but Fi feels a rush of blood to her head and Dee’s cold fingers on her face and rational thought kind of vanishes.

She shrugs off her backpack with one roll of her shoulder and lets it fall heavy to the ground, grabbing Dee by the hips and spinning her around to push her back up against the door.

Their mouths are still pressed together and Dee makes a little noise of surprise when Fi kisses back.

She’s gone. She’s not here anymore. She’s drifted up into some astral plane of existence where her mind is deliciously blank and all that remains is a honey warmth seeping into her bones as Dee’s fingers thread into her hair.

Dee likes this. She wants it. She’s pulling Fi in even closer. Her lips part and Fi can feel the wet warmth of the inside of her mouth and can’t stop herself from licking into it just a little, just to feel how soft it is on the inside of her lip. When Dee’s tongue brushes up against hers Fi inhales sharply and melts against Dee’s chest.

She’s putty. She’s a cloud. Dee tilts her head to kiss Fi from a different angle. It’s not a mistake. She likes it.

It’s everything Fi ever fantasized it would be, and somehow also nothing like she’d imagined because it’s actually _real_. She’s tasting Dee’s lips. Dee’s mouth is sinking into hers and it isn’t a hesitant thing. It isn’t cautious.

She has absolutely no sense of self preservation and she doesn’t care. Dee makes a soft sweet little noise in the back of her throat and Fi’s hands slide up from Dee’s hips and under her shirt to touch the soft warm skin of her waist.

Then the heavenly haze is ripped away when Fi’s phone rings loudly and makes them both jump. Some sort of spell is broken and Fi takes a half step back. She doesn’t go far, keeping a hand on Dee’s waist while the other digs into her pocket for her mobile.

She answers it without taking her eyes off Dee’s face and the way her lips are pink and shiny. Dee’s looking at her too, her eyes cast slightly down so Fi knows Dee’s looking at her lips too. She doesn’t look like she’s scrambling to understand the mistake she just made.

Maybe, somehow, just maybe - she doesn’t think of it as a mistake.

The voice on the other end of Fi’s phone says, “Can you come in today? We’re desperate.” It’s Daisy, one of the coworkers she actually likes.

“When?” Fi asks.

“Like, now. Five fucking minutes ago. Please.”

Fi takes another step back and her hand falls from Dee’s waist. Suddenly she can’t bear the thought of having to talk about this, about having to confess how long she’s wanted it. She can’t bear even the possibility of hearing that it doesn’t actually mean as much to Dee as it does to Fi.

And anyway, Dee has a paper to write.

“Ok,” she says into her phone. “I’ll come. But I look like shit.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Daisy says, relief warming her voice. “Don’t need to look pretty to pour beer. See you soon?”

“Yeah,” Fi croaks, and then hangs up without remembering to actually say goodbye. She leans down to pick up her backpack and sling it over her shoulder again.

“You’re leaving?” Dee sounds small again.

“Sorry. I have to…” The words literally disappear from her brain as Dee takes a step away from the door to close the distance between them again, reaching out and tugging gently on the hem of Fi’s shirt.

“I don’t really want you to leave,” Dee murmurs. Fi thinks maybe she’s trying to be playful but her voice comes out so… scared.

“I don’t…” Fi falters. Why in the fuck had she even answered that call in the first place? “I took a shift,” she says stupidly. “I have to go.”

Dee’s hand drops and she steps to the side and around Fi. She walks back to her desk and sinks into the chair without looking at Fi’s face. “Ok.”

Fi knows she should say something comforting, maybe make a joke. She should tell Dee to ring her later or even promise to come right back after her shift. She should do pretty much anything except what she ends up doing, which is opening the door and slipping out without a single word.

She can feel the phantom brush of Dee’s lips on hers as she waits for a car to take her to the bar. While she serves drinks and wipes down tables she’s replaying over and over the tiny noise Dee made when Fi got her up against the door. Dee’s fingers in her hair, the taste of her tongue, the way she’d gripped Fi’s face like she never wanted to let go.

She feels so strangely lonely. She wants to tell Jimmy, but what would she say? How could she tell him the story without telling him how badly she ballsed everything up in the end?

She hadn’t really followed the advice he’d given. They didn’t talk. Fi said something and then Dee kissed her and then… Fi bloody ran away, like a scared puppy with her tail tucked between her legs.

Still, though… Dee kissed her. That actually happened. And that’s all she can think about her whole shift, even when it’s busy and she wouldn’t normally have time to think, she’s thinking about Dee and her lips and her hands - and about what happens now.

The sun’s gone down and things have picked up as they always do in a bar at night when her phone buzzes in her pocket. Her heart leaps up into her throat and she pulls it out right away even though she has more than a few people waiting on drinks. If it’s Dee she wants to know what it says, even if it’s something she doesn’t really want to hear.

It’s not Dee, it’s Jimmy; she doesn’t know if she’s relieved or disappointed. Maybe a little of both.

_where are you?_

She tells him with a one word reply that she’s at work, and he texts back instantly asking when she’ll be home, which seems odd. Usually just knowing she’ll be back later is more than enough.

idk like 2 probably unless they let me go early

Her phone is buzzing again as she shoves it into her pocket but she’s not bothered. Jimmy isn’t the person she wants to hear from right now.

She throws herself into tending the bar and keeping the place immaculately clean to keep her thoughts from running around in circles and driving her mad. It doesn’t really work but it’s better than nothing.

They don’t let her go early. In the end it’s a long grueling shift and her feet are achy as she walks home in the cold and the dark. It’s not raining but the pavement is wet and truth be told she’s rather miserable. She’s tired and hungry and just generally feeling like shit.

The flat is dark when she gets home, but Jimmy’s shoes are on the mat along with a pair she’s never seen before. So sofa sex guy must be ‘round and Jimmy must have been asking after her to make sure they could do weird pervy boy stuff without worrying she'd walk in on them.

That just makes her feel even more alone. She kicks her shoes off harshly and they make a satisfying banging sound as they hit the wall. She goes to the kitchen and finds some takeaway curry leftovers that Jimmy was undoubtedly saving for tomorrow and eats the lot of it. She leaves the rubbish on the counter and heads for the bathroom.

She takes a long hot shower, scrubbing down every inch of her body and then shaving off every hair that doesn’t belong from the neck down. She doesn’t always - or really ever - put much effort into hair removal but she likes the way it feels afterwards when she rubs sweet smelling lotion into baby-smooth skin. There’s something luxurious about sliding into bed in her pants and a t-shirt with absolutely nothing between her legs and the sheets.

She doesn’t do a damn thing with her hair. It’ll be a right wonky mess in the morning and she couldn’t possibly care less.

Her phone buzzes against the nightstand where she’d put it. She’s not holding out much hope that it’s Dee at this point and she isn’t wrong.

It’s Jimmy. Again.

_you’re home?_

She rolls her eyes none too playfully. _yes you bloody div i’m home did you not hear me? btw i ate all your curry_

 _you cow_ is his eloquent response.

 _go back to your bf and leave me alone i’m trying to sleep_ she says before muting her phone and shoving it under her pillow.

She’s not going to fall asleep anytime soon, that much she knows, but she still doesn’t want to chat with Jimmy in the middle of the night, especially when she knows he’s probably naked in bed with another person. She’s happy for him, happy that he’s happy, but right now it just stings a little. He gets to be happy and she doesn’t and it’s probably all her own fault.

She lies on her back in the dark for a while before reaching under her pillow and ignoring the texts from Jimmy to write one of her own. One that makes her stomach flutter and her hands sweat nervously, but one she knows she needs to write.

_hey. i’m really sorry for leaving. i want to talk. i don’t wanna leave things like this. ring me tomorrow or i guess whenever you’re not too cross to speak to me_

It’s clunky and doesn’t come close to expressing the depth of her emotions right now and it takes her an embarrassingly long time just to get those words out, but she hits send when they’re typed and keeps her phone in her hand as she closes her eyes and prays a miracle will happen and sleep will take her.

It doesn’t, and a few minutes later there’s a soft knock at her door. Irritation flares hot. She told Jimmy to leave her alone and now he’s _knocking?_ Unacceptable.

“What?” she half shouts acerbically.

The door creaks open and Fi is petty enough to roll over with her back to the intrusion. The door closes softly and quiet footsteps carry Jimmy wordlessly over to the edge of Fi’s bed.

He doesn’t say anything and neither does she. Is he here for a cuddle because he’s a good mate like that and somehow knows she needs one? Or does he want something from her? In the middle of the bleeding night after she’s worked a hellishly long shift.

The bed dips behind her and she feels the blanket lift up a little. A cuddle then. The tension in her shoulders eases a touch. She could use a cuddle, all things considered.

“You abandoning your lover boy for me, then?” she quips.

The voice that responds is the wrong one, soft and gentle and decidedly not a man’s. “No, we broke up, remember?”

Fi whips around to see the soft outline of Dee’s face in the weak light that filters through the window. “Dee?”

“Hi.”

“You’re here?”

“I am. Is that alright?” She shuffles closer until Fi can feel toes brush her leg.

“Yeah. Yes. Of course, definitely,” Fi babbles. “Did you get my text?”

“Mhm,” Dee hums. “I was already in the lift on the way up here so I didn’t bother answering.”

“Oh. You were.” She’s not asking a question. There’s no reason to say what she says beyond processing the information for herself. It wasn’t her text that brought Dee here, she’d come of her own accord. “D’you wanna talk?” she asks finally.

Dee’s hand reaches out under the duvet to run up Fi’s side, up along her arm and tracing over the slope of her shoulder to cup her jaw. Fi’s breath catches in her throat.

Lips on hers again, slightly chapped but warm and plush. Just gently, just a little peck and then they’re gone and Dee’s voice is low and whispered. “No. Reckon we could leave that part for now.”

“You want to kiss me,” Fi whispers. Again, not a question, but Dee answers anyway.

“Yes.”


	18. Chapter 18

“Are… you sure?” 

Stupid. Stupid thing to say, and the worst possible time to say it.

She can’t see Dee as clearly as she’d like. Or maybe it’s better this way. Maybe seeing her would be even weirder.

“Are you trying to talk me out of it?” Dee asks.

“No. I’m not trying to talk you in or out of anything. I’m just… lying here.”

“Well then,” Dee says, and she presses herself against Fi’s front, hand reaching up to tuck Fi’s hair behind her ear. “Could you maybe shut up and let me get on with it?”

Fi remains perfectly still, perfectly silent. 

“Unless you don’t… want me to?” Dee says, the first hint of uncertainty of the night creeping into her voice.

Fi can’t be having that. She leans her face into Dee’s quickly and without finesse, squashing their lips together in her desperation not to come across as anything but enthusiastically consenting.

Dee giggles, cupping Fi’s jaw and pulling back just enough to get a better angle before leaning in again.

The giggles die down quickly and then they’re _kissing_ , picking up where they left off earlier but with less desperation. This is sweeter, calmer. Slower. Their tongues brush at each other’s lips but don’t go inside. 

It’s chaste, mostly, but something about that makes it even hotter. It’s the sounds they make, the darkness, the softness of Fi’s sheets against their bare legs. It’s the control of it, it feels like a choice and not an impulse, like something Dee thought about instead of a burst of bravery and adrenaline. She chose this. She didn’t have to, but she did, and she’s continuing to choose Fi as she hooks her arm loosely around the back of Fi’s neck.

Fi is scared to touch her. She’s afraid something will pop and whatever alternate universe she’s stumbled into will right itself and she’ll lose this.

She touches anyway. She’s still human; fear can only hold her back from living out her fantasies for so long when they’re placed right in front of her like this. She slides her hand up Dee’s back and cradles her, fingers weaving between strands of frizzy curls.

Nothing pops. Dee’s still right here, right here in her arms and she smells a little bit like cigarette but Fi’s not going to hold that against her. She reckons they’d both had a rather emotionally trying day. And after all, it was Fi who’d run away and left Dee to worry that she’d done something wrong. 

The thought makes Fi’s grip tighten, makes her push her knee upwards to fit her thigh between Dee’s. 

Why had she done that? Why had she run away? What could she have possibly been thinking?

Dee makes an unfairly sexy little noise and pulls back a little. Fi opens her eyes to find Dee’s already looking at her, heavy lidded and sleepy.

To Fi she is devastating. She’s some kind of otherworldly being, almost maddening in the way she makes Fi feel. 

“Sorry,” she murmurs, trying to pull her leg back, but Dee clenches her thighs to keep Fi right where she is.

“For what?” Dee whispers.

“I don’t know what’s happening.”

Dee’s laugh is breathy and sweet against Fi’s face. “You think I do?”

“You know, you don’t have to…” She trails off, then closes her eyes. She can’t look and speak at the same time, not when she has wetness against her lip that came from Dee’s mouth. “When I said what I said today, I wasn’t like—”

“Did you not mean it?” Dee interrupts.

“What? No. Of course I bloody meant it.” Fi’s voice is almost angry with her incredulity. “You must— surely you know that I mean it?”

Dee doesn’t say anything, just presses her forehead to Fi’s and closes her eyes.

“I meant that you don’t have to do this,” Fi whispers. “I wasn’t trying to pressure you.”

“I’m not pressured.”

“I didn’t want to say it,” Fi continues. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

A hand claps over Fi’s mouth. “Yeah ok, shut up,” Dee says. “Can we go back to the part where there’s no talking?”

Fi’s answering stare is unblinking. She’s quite sure that not talking is unwise, but she’s too far gone now to deny Dee pretty much anything she wants, so she nods.

Her hand keeps its place over Fi’s mouth as Dee immediately contradicts herself by talking. “I finished my paper. Sent it to my prof at 11:58. Proud?”

Fi nods again. Then her body betrays her and she yawns widely under Dee’s hand. 

It’s almost cartoonish how quickly Dee follows suit. “God,” she says after, wiping moisture from the corners of her eyes. “I’m knackered.”

“Me too,” Fi mumbles from under Dee’s palm. She hates having to admit it because she’d really like to do more of that kissing thing but she can already feel another yawn coming on and suddenly her eyelids are drooping like they refuse to stay open any longer.

Maybe it’s just the pure unadulterated relief that has her body threatening to give up on consciousness for the rest of the night. She hasn’t driven her best friend away and it’s possible that said best friend could like her back. She could like her a little more than a best friend.

“Reckon we should sleep,” Dee says, finally pulling her hand off Fi’s mouth. 

Fi nods again.

“You can talk.” She rolls onto her back, still with Fi’s leg locked between her thighs. “As long as you don’t say anything daft.”

“Will you still be here in the morning?” Fi asks quietly. 

“Right here,” Dee promises. “Will you?”

Fi knows what she means. She knows it’s about what happened earlier, about communicating to Fi that she’d been hurt by the suddenness of her exit.

“Yes. I’m sorry,” Fi whispers. “I got scared.”

“I’m scared too, Fi. I’m fucking scared shitless.” She yawns again and Fi nearly laughs at the timing of it. “Ugh, but I’m so tired and I don’t wanna talk. I’m just— please can we not? I’m so tired.”

Fi nods and pulls her leg free. Dee turns onto her side and Fi doesn’t even have time to feel a twinge of disappointment before Dee is shuffling back to spoon against her. 

“No talking,” Fi agrees, slinging her arm across Dee’s stomach. “Just sleeping.”

-

Fi wakes to the sound of her name being spoken with something a little less than patience. She’s too groggy for awareness of what time it is and why in the hell she’s basically being shouted at when she was in the middle of a lovely dream about Sarah Michelle Gellar. 

“Wake _up_ ,” Dee says, going so far as to shake Fi’s shoulder a little. 

She whinges and pulls the duvet up to her chin and rolls onto her side and tries to ignore the disruption to her beauty sleep just exactly as she did when she was a teenager and refusing to listen to her mum tell her it was time to get ready for school. 

“Holy shit mate, you sleep like an actual dead person.”

Fi grunts. “Leave me ‘lone.”

“You snored a bit,” Dee says.

Oh. Dee. _Oh_. The memories wash over her like a tidal wave.

Suddenly she feels very much awake. She sits up and wipes the corner of her mouth on her forearm. Thank freaking little baby Jesus there’s no wetness there. “No I didn’t,” she protests. 

“I’ll record you next time.”

“Next time?” She says it without thinking. She’s not awake enough yet not to make things awkward, apparently. 

Graciously, Dee ignores her. “I feel bad waking you up but I didn’t want you to think I broke my promise.”

Fi frowns, not following whatsoever. She twists back to look at the clock on her nightstand. “Jesus,” she mutters, rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes. “Why are we awake?”

“I’m trying to tell you, idiot. I’ve got class.”

“You’re going to class?”

Dee nods, and it’s only then that Fi really notices that Dee is sat there next to her with her legs pulled up, chin resting on her knees. She’s not wearing anything but skin, a pair of boxers and an oversized Radiohead t-shirt.

“What promise?” Fi asks. She has to look away lest she become dazed into speechlessness by the sight of Dee and the memory of last night.

“Told you I'd be here in the morning.”

“You can’t have gotten more than a few hours sleep,” Fi says.

Dee shrugs. “Used to it, I guess. I can nap later.”

Fi yawns as if on cue and stretches her arms above her head. “I’m proud of you.” Her words come on the edge of the stretch so they’re garbled a little, but no less sincere in their sentiment. She _is_ proud, more than she can really express right now. She’ll have to reiterate that fact later when she’s more awake. 

Dee smiles. “Don’t get used to it. I just feel… good. Today. Reckon I might as well make the most of it.”

“That’s amazing.”

Dee laughs and then she’s reaching forward to brush her hand against the top of Fi’s head, smoothing down what’s surely a black rat’s nest of tangled hair. “You’re well cute in the morning, aren’t you?”

Fi scrunches up her nose. “You need to get your eyes checked. I feel like a swamp troll right now.”

“Nope. You look sleepy and adorable.”

“Well one of those is accurate at least,” Fi says, sliding back down into bed and pulling the duvet all the way up to her eyes. She’s pretending to be tired but really just trying to hide her giant grin.

“I’m sorry,” Dee says softly. “I just didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

“Then don’t leave,” Fi blurts. “Come back to bed.”

Dee looks at her for a second like she’s considering it. Then she hops off the bed and grabs her jeans from the floor. “Never thought I’d see this day.”

“What day?” Fi mumbles. Lying back down had been a mistake. The fatigue isn’t feigned anymore and everything within her physically aches to go back to sleep.

“The day you prioritize yourself over me.”

Fi opens her mouth to protest, but Dee waves her hand dismissively. “Didn’t mean that as harshly as it came out. I’m just teasing you.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Fi asks. She’ll have to down like a five shot latte to even have a chance of making it through a two hour lecture without falling asleep but she’ll do it if it’s what Dee wants.

“Definitely not. You need to sleep.”

The urge to argue is strong, almost ingrained at this point, but her bed is so warm and cozy and holds a very pleasant memory that she’s quite keen to bask in for a while. She wants to bathe in the loveliness of sharing kisses with Dee before the reality of what comes next is all she can think about.

“Fi, will you walk me out?” Dee asks.

Fi opens her eyes. Had she fallen asleep? Dee is dressed now and her hair is less frizzy.

“Ok.” Her voice is croaky and her body is shouting at her for trying to get out of bed but she ignores it. 

Dee’s backpack is slung over her shoulder casually and she’s smirking slightly as she watches Fi’s heavy limbed struggle. She doesn’t look like a woman who’s stewing in confusion and regret. Fi knows it doesn’t necessarily mean she’s not, but she still takes it as a good sign.

She follows Dee down the hall and over to the front door and watches her pull her boots and coat on. Neither of them are speaking. It feels like a morning after, but different. Different because it’s Dee, different because Fi desperately wants it not to be the only morning after they’ll ever have.

Dee looks up when she’s all dressed and ready to head out. “What are you doing today?”

“Um…” She wracks her brain, but at the moment Fi’s memories are empty of everything but Dee. “I don’t remember.”

There’s a tiny huff of breathy laughter and fondness in Dee’s voice when she says, “Ok sleepyhead. Back to bed with you. Text me when you’re awake and you remember what you’re doing with your life.”

“I’ve never known _that_.”

Dee steps forward and pulls Fi into a loose, one-armed hug. “Text me, Fifi.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, but she hugs Dee back with both arms. “I’ll text you.”

Her forehead thunks against the back of the door after it closes. Was she supposed to say something? Kiss her? Are they pretending it didn’t happen?

If Dee regrets it, why is she so happy today? If she doesn’t regret it then why didn’t she kiss Fi again this morning?

“What are you doing?”

Fi’s heart jumps into her throat and gets stuck there as she whirls around in pure, abject terror.

Jimmy’s stood there dressed rather smartly with a mug of tea in his hand, his hair artfully messy as it waves down the side of his forehead.

“Jesus fuck,” Fi chokes, clutching her chest where her heart used to be.

He takes a sip of his tea. “Why’re you so jumpy? What happened last night?”

It’s a decision made on the spot in a split second, no time to analyze her reasoning. “Nothing.”

“Was Dee here? She kept texting me last night asking when you’d be home. It was annoying, I was trying to sleep.”

“That’s why you were asking after me?” Fi asks.

His head tilts to the side, like he’s studying something particularly baffling. “You thought I was just desperate to know your whereabouts at two am?”

“Maybe I did, asshole.” She steps forward and plucks his mug out of his hands and carries it over to the sofa where she sits and takes a long swig. “Not enough sugar. Also not enough coffee. Why isn’t this coffee?”

Jimmy plops down next to her and takes his mug back. “Because I’m a proper british gentleman.”

Fi lolls her head back against the couch. “Is sofa sex guy still here?”

“It’s Tom, and no. He had work.”

“Don’t you have work?” Fi asks.

“Yes I do. Hence the brew and the fact that I’m even awake at this shite hour. Why are _you_ awake?”

“Dee wanted me to walk her out,” Fi admits.

“So she was here.”

“Yes.”

“For like… three hours.” Jimmy’s not an idiot. He knows Fi’s being vague and probably a little less than forthcoming, but Fi just… she doesn’t want to tell him. Not now, not when she doesn’t even know anything herself.

“Yes,” she says curtly.

“Because…?”

Fi stands abruptly and ruffles up Jimmy’s hair despite his yelp of protest. “Because your mum.” 

She’s halfway out of the room when Jimmy shouts, “You’ll have to tell me eventually.”

“No I won’t!” she shouts back, not turning around. She’s got a date with her bed.


	19. Chapter 19

_my underboob hurts. or side boob whatever_

Fi’s only just returned to her bedroom after her shower and a leisurely breakfast spent in front of the tv and that’s the message waiting for her when she checks her phone.

It’s normal, so very every day and normal and friendly and she wishes that didn’t feel so weird now. It’s not like she expects Dee to text i love yous or something.

She doesn’t know what she expects. And she doesn’t really know what’s expected of _her_ , either.

 _my leg hurts a bit_ she texts. _i keep forgetting to put lotion on it. james would be so disappointed in me_

_oh fuckadoodle doo i forgot too. shit. remind me tonight?_

_what’s happening tonight?_ Fi asks. 

_will i not see you?_

Fi’s stomach flutters. Every tiny little confirmation she gets that Dee isn’t appalled by the kissing in the morning after hours feels like a tidal wave of relief.

 _do you want to?_

_don’t be a twat waffle plz_ is Dee’s response. _are you working tonight? you were supposed to text me_

 _sorry, i needed a shower bad_ Fi texts.

_i see how it is_

Fi laughs. She’s all alone and laughing out loud at her phone like a dumbass, but that’s just the effect Dee has on her. 

She also curses out loud when she checks the photo she’d taken of this week’s schedule. _i do work tonight btw :(_

_booo oops class is starting double boo ok gotta go love you_

Fi stares at that particular text for a long time. Too long. It’s nothing Dee hasn’t said to her basically daily since they were children. It’s not weird, and it probably doesn’t mean anything different than it ever had. 

But it feels different. 

Her fingers itch to call Jimmy, but he’s at work and doesn’t even know about the kissing. She’s buzzing with nervous energy and no one to talk to but she knows she needs to find some kind of outlet for it so she can go back to sleep and rest up for another late night of drink slinging.

All she can see when she closes her eyes is Dee, all up in her space with her hair all wild and curly. All she can smell is Dee’s perfume on her sheets. She can still feel Dee’s body pressed up and tangled with hers and her lips finding Fi’s and the softness of her tongue and how kissing her for real is even better than the imagined version.

She can’t help herself, but she’s not sure she cares anymore. There’s nothing for it, the only way to exorcise these feelings is to just give in to them, to reach into her bedside table and pull out her little purple vibrator. 

She flips onto her stomach and turns it on, reaching down to position it between her legs before hugging her pillow to her chest and pushing her hips down into the vibrations. She thinks of Dee and lets herself feel good. She lets herself have hope, because she loves Dee so much, and more important than that right now is that she trusts her. She trusts Dee not to be cruel enough to be careless with her heart. 

She edges the feelings out, backing off every time she gets close, desperate to hold on to the way it felt to wake up to Dee right next her and know that it was different than any time before. It won’t always be such a fresh memory and she wants to live in it as long as she can.

When she finally lets herself come, it’s the best she’s felt in longer than she can even remember. She’s happy and exhausted and ready to sleep until five minutes before she needs to get up for work. She tosses the toy onto the floor in her fatigue and curls up under her duvet not feeling an ounce of shame. 

The memory of Dee is still there, softened by the satisfaction of a powerful orgasm. It’s a good memory, one she hopes she’ll be able to hold onto for a long time, but also hopefully just the beginning. Hopefully next time she does this she’ll have a whole set of new memories.

-

She wakes up to texts from both Jimmy and Dee. Jimmy’s requires her to use humour to deflect his curiosity and Dee’s just makes her smile. She’s not the only one in a good mood today. 

She slept like a rock and the sun is already low in the sky when she finally drags herself out of bed. Turns out Jimmy is actually home already, for once not spending every second of free time with his sofa sex partner. 

He’s sat at the kitchen table with papers scattered everywhere and his glasses slid halfway down his nose. He looks up when she comes in and frowns. “Are you nocturnal all of a sudden?”

She shrugs, heading straight for the coffeemaker. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

He turns around in his chair to face her. “Oh fuck off and tell me what the hell happened.”

Fi yawns an exaggerated yawn. “D’you want coffee?”

“Since when do you not tell me things?”

She sighs. It’s not fun if he’s actually going to be upset. “Since I don’t know what comes next and I don’t know if I should be happy or scared or what.”

His eyes nearly bug right out of his skull. “So something did happen.”

She just raises her eyebrows. It’s not really an answer but she feels like she’d be betraying Dee’s trust to blab everything to Jimmy so immediately.

“Are you really not gonna tell me what?” he asks.

She bites her lip. “Not… yet.”

“You’re killing me.”

“I mean… It’s killing me a bit too.”

Jimmy’s expression softens. “Did you take my advice?”

“Kinda. I… I told her.”

“Seriously?”

She nods. “We haven’t really talked though.”

“Next step?” he asks.

“I hope so.”

He stands up then, walking over to her and crushing her in a painfully tight bear hug. “I love you, you know.”

“I know.”

“Things will work themselves out.”

“I hope so.”

He finally releases her and then pats her on the head. “They will. Now make me some coffee and help me with my homework.”

-

Work doesn’t really feel like work, not when she’s sneaking off into darkened corners every five minutes to respond to Dee’s texts. They’re not even really talking about anything, but Fi feels giddy from the attention. They haven’t talked this much and this happily in ages.

There’s no mention of plans for tomorrow, and Fi’s somehow still a little afraid to ask. If she says she wants to hang out, is it a date? Will there be more kissing? Will there be _more_ than kissing?

Or will it be as it’s always been, two friends spending time together playing video games or watching telly and eating too much cheap takeaway? Will the kissing be a two time blip that neither of them mention again?

Will she ever be brave enough to just fucking open her mouth and ask the questions she’s dying to ask instead of stewing in fear and confusion?

It’s a fairly slow night and she isn’t working with anyone she really likes, but it goes by quickly thanks to Dee’s distractions. No one gets drunk enough to start a brawl, she doesn’t have to kick out anyone obviously underage and she doesn’t get hit on by a single dude, so all in all she count this shift a definite win. She’s not even tired thanks to her extended daytime nap.

So she’s feeling pretty good, and that’s even before she unlocks the door to the flat and pushes it open to see a very familiar pair of floral boots strewn across the mat. Had they been there all day and she just hadn’t noticed? But no, because there’s Dee’s coat draped across the back of the sofa. She’s here.

Again. She’s snuck in again. They’ve been texting back and forth all night and she’d never given any indication she’d be in Fi’s flat waiting when she got off work.

Maybe she’s not waiting. Maybe she’s asleep. Maybe she’s just getting sick of sleeping in her shitty room in halls.

Fi can practically hear Jimmy scoffing in his head. It’s not like she’s unaware of her own ridiculousness, but sometimes the little anxious voices in her brain just demand to make themselves known, no matter how irrational. 

Dee’s not in the lounge, and she’s not in the kitchen. Fi had been hungry about five seconds ago but now food has last all meaning. All she can decipher within her insides are butterflies.

And maybe the need for a wee. 

She goes to the bathroom and takes care of that, as well as a quick once over with her toothbrush. Dee must be able to hear the water running but she doesn’t announce herself. Maybe she really is asleep. 

Fi takes her bra off before she leaves the bathroom. She can’t change into pjs because she has none with her, but at least she can mitigate the amount of stripping she’ll have to do with an audience. 

She realizes that’s daft, even for her. It’s not even been that long since Dee watched her get out of the shower with hawk like intensity. Fi’s stomach flips to think she may have been feeling the same kind of things that Fi was.

Maybe tonight’s the night to be brave. Maybe tonight’s the night she can stop drawing 360 degree circles in her own over all this. 

She almost knocks, but stops herself. She pushes open the door and Dee is sat on top of the blanket and leaning back against the headboard with her laptop on her thighs. She smiles and looks up, shutting her computer immediately. “Hey.”

“You’re sneaky,” Fi says, closing the door behind her. 

“Wanted to surprise you.”

“Mission accomplished.”

“Are you annoyed?” Dee asks. She happens not to be wearing anything on her legs except presumably some underwear. Fi can’t be sure as her t-shirt is long enough to hide whatever it is that’s covering - or not covering - her bits.

“No, don’t be stupid,” Fi says, turning to her wardrobe to fetch something more comfortable than jeans.

“So you’re happy to see me?” Dee asks. 

“I’m always happy to see you.” She pulls her jeans off with her back facing Dee, then grabs up a pair of red plaid bottoms. 

She’s about to step into them when Dee says, “Wait. I was supposed to remind you about lotion.”

Fi chuckles. “Actually I think I was supposed to remind you.”

“Well you failed.”

“I did.” She starts to put a foot into her pjs.

“You can’t put on trousers, Fiona, your tattoo is on your leg, did you forget?”

She turns around. “I’ll just do it in the morning.”

Dee shakes her head. “I’m gonna do it for you now.”

“Are you?”

She nods. “And you do me.”

If this is how her body reacts to the most imagined of double entendres, Fi can’t imagine she’ll survive Dee touching her for real… if that ever happens. 

“Get some lotion, Fi.”

She doesn’t have to look very hard. Her bedroom is littered with the stuff. “Smelly or less smelly?” she asks, opening the drawer she’s allotted for creams and body butters and lotions and the like. 

“Less. Nothing too sweet, please.”

She rifles through the tubs and tubes and pulls out the plainest one she can find. She walks toward the bed feeling awkward, but Dee gets up on her knees and says, “Lie down on your back.”

At least one of them isn’t a nervous wreck. She climbs up onto the mattress and lays her head against the pillow. Her legs stretch out, toes flexing instinctively. 

She watches Dee’s face as Dee looks down at her thigh, as she reaches for it and pulls Fi’s knickers out of the way a little. Fi hopes Dee hadn’t noticed the way her breath caught momentarily in her throat.

“We really did this, didn’t we?” Dee murmurs, opening the lid and squeezing some lotion into her palm.

“We’re mad,” Fi says, watching Dee rub it between her hands to warm it up. 

“It looks so good on you. I chose a good spot.” Her fingers touch Fi’s skin.

“You chose a good everything,” Fi says softly, closing her eyes as Dee massages the lotion into her skin gently.

“You like it?” Dee asks.

“Of course I do. I love it.”

“You don’t secretly regret it?”

Fi opens her eyes and lifts her head a little to look at Dee. She’s not sure if they’re talking about more than the tattoos now.

“Of course not. Do you?”

She shakes her head. “I’m glad I was feeling brave for once.”

“You’re always brave, Dee.”

Dee laughs, breathy and bitter. “Right.”

“I reckon you’re one of the bravest people I know,” Fi says. Her voice is quiet but it’s full of conviction that she can only hope Dee will take to heart.

“How’s that?”

Fi props herself up on her elbows and looks down her leg to where Dee is tracing around the shapes of the lines in her skin. “You live your life in pain and you never give up.”

“I want to sometimes,” Dee whispers. 

“That’s what makes you brave, though. You don’t.”

Dee looks up and her eyes are a little shinier than they had been before. “You give me way too much credit.”

Fi shakes her head. “You don’t give yourself enough.”

Dee laughs again, but this time it’s a dismissive thing, a sound of forced happiness to clear the air. “Stop making me so emotional.”

“I just love you.”

She says it without thinking, like she’s done a million times before. She says it without thought of the things that have changed between them, the confessions that have been made and the night they spent last night, kissing until they couldn’t keep their eyes open and falling asleep in each other’s arms. 

A silence falls over the room. Fi drops back down onto the pillow and Dee pulls her hand away, finally breaking the awkwardness by announcing, “My turn.”

Before Fi can even respond she’s watching Dee reach down and pull off her t-shirt.

She’s not wearing a bra.

Stunned probably isn’t a strong enough word. Fi watches as Dee tosses her shirt onto the floor and lies down on her side to face Fi.

Fi keeps her eyes laser focused on Dee’s face. Dee must know how she feels because she smiles and says, “It’s ok, Fi. You can look at me.”

She doesn’t do that. She sits up and grabs the lotion, accidentally squirting out way more than she needs in her haste. She also forgets about the hand rubbing for warmth, so when she puts her hand on Dee’s ribs Dee gasps.

“Bloody hell, Fi! S’freezing.”

If Fi notices Dee’s nipples harden out of the corner of her eye, she pretends she doesn’t. “Sorry,” she mumbles, forcing herself to calm the fuck down and focus on the flower beneath her fingertips and not… well, not anything else, really.

Not what it means that Dee is topless and lying on Fi’s bed in the middle of the night of her own accord. Not that Dee wants Fi to look at her, that she’s engineered a scenario where they’re both half naked and touching each other in rather intimate places. 

She stares at that flower and thinks of vanilla, both the place and the spice and the meaning of the ink that decorates their skin now. She traces the shape of the petals and tries to ignore how close her hand is coming to brushing Dee’s breast. 

They’ve been best friends for half their lives. This is different. This is so vastly different that not even Fi can deny it anymore. Something has changed, and Dee wants it just as much. Fi doesn’t understand it but there’s no way to look at what’s happening right now and conclude that it’s only friendly.

Fi’s eyes flit up from the tattoo to catch Dee’s and Dee is already looking her. It’s that intensity again, and Fi thinks she’s finally ready to admit to herself that it means what she was always afraid to let herself believe it meant. 

Dee’s hand drops so gently over Fi’s that it feels like little more than a tickle, but it’s there and it’s guiding Fi away from the tattoo and up. Fi closes her eyes as her hand presses lightly over Dee’s breast.

“Dee,” she breathes, cupping the softness when Dee doesn’t pull her hand away.

“It’s ok. I want you to.”

Fi opens her eyes again. “What are we doing?”

“You said you were in love with me.”

Fi slides her hand up to cup Dee’s jaw instead. “I am.”

“So then I’m letting myself try something I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” Dee whispers, shuffling in so close that her chest presses against Fi’s. 

“What’s that?” Fi asks, amazed at this point that she even has the capacity to speak at all.

“Love you back.”


	20. Chapter 20

Fi closes her eyes. She needs her head clear for this moment. 

Dee wants to love her back. 

It’s everything she wants to hear, and yet, now that she’s hearing it it sounds too good to be true. She can’t really be getting the one thing in the world she wants most. Things don’t work out like that in real life.

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” Fi whispers.

“I do mean it.” Dee presses her forehead to Fi’s and breathes gentle against her face. 

Fi’s own breaths come out shaky. “I can’t be your experiment.”

Dee frowns. “What?”

“I’ve woken up to too many girls telling me it was a mistake. I can’t do that with you.”

“I’m not— you think I’d do that to you?”

“Not on purpose,” Fi says, pulling her face back a little.

Dee looks stricken, and it’s almost enough for Fi to cry right there on the spot. “I thought that… I thought something was happening here.”

“Something’s happening,” Fi says. “I just can’t… I can’t do it if it’s going to suddenly stop happening because you’ve changed your mind.” She could very well be digging herself into the ground right now but she can’t seem to stop. It’s like a dam has broken on everything she’s been bottling up since that first kiss in Dee’s room. 

“I hate that you’re afraid of me hurting you,” Dee says quietly. “It’s literally the last thing I’d ever do.”

Fi knows that’s true in theory, but she can’t bring herself to say anything. 

“You want a guarantee, is that it?” Dee asks incredulously, after waiting in vain for Fi to respond. “No one can give you that.”

Fi rolls onto her back and covers her face with her hands. “I just… I always thought you were straight.”

“So did I,” Dee says. “Does it matter?”

Fi shakes her head but keeps her face covered.

“I don’t think— It’s not like I want just any girl.” She pulls Fi’s hand from her face. “Stop hiding.”

“I’m scared,” Fi mumbles.

“So am I. Shitless.”

“You don’t kiss me like you’re scared,” Fi says. “I don’t get it. I was so awkward the first time I kissed a girl.”

“Kissing a girl isn’t really different than kissing a bloke, Fi. The mechanics are the same. And I’m not kissing you because of what your bits look like.” 

Fi lies there stunned. She feels like an idiot. She can hear the stupidity of her own words, but the whole thing still just feels too surreal. Her brain is rejecting it like it would a dream that’s just a little too perfect.

“Anyway,” Dee continues. “Kissing you is when things feel not scary. It’s only scary when I stop to think about it… Like now.”

Fi just nods. 

“I’m not really confused, y’know,” Dee says. “I know I like kissing you. It’s not really an experiment besides the fact that I’ve never done it before.”

“How long?” Fi asks, hoping Dee will know what she means. 

Apparently she does. Dee sits up and pulls the duvet up to cover her bare chest. “I dunno. It’s been a gradual thing.”

“Is that why you… with Aaron?”

Dee nods. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and then you told me you _wanted_ me to break up with him and— Fuck.”

Even now the memory makes her feel shame. “I shouldn’t have said that,” she says quietly. “That was shitty.”

“It wasn’t.” Dee sounds so sure. “It was exactly what I needed to hear. I was a lot less confused after that.”

Fi shakes her head. It’s almost too much to hear like this all at once. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Dee looks her straight on. “Why didn’t you?”

Fi sits up too. Lying down feels too vulnerable, like she’s a turtle with her soft underbelly exposed and someone’s about to stomp their boot right on top of her at any minute. “Because I need you in my life, one way or the other. And I already had one way.”

“So why’d you tell me in the end?”

Fi looks down helplessly at her hands. “Jimmy got in my head.”

Silence.

And then, “So you told Jimmy before me.” Her voice is like ice.

Fi’s heart sinks. Nothing feels worse than the two people she loves most in the world pitted against each other like that, even if it’s only in Dee’s head. “He knew it before he knew anything else about me. We met at York’s Queer Group, for christ’s sake.”

“But he knew about _me_ , specifically.”

“Dee.” She huffs exasperation at whatever Dee is trying to accuse her of. “Everyone I ever fucking talked to at uni knew about you.”

Dee looks taken aback. “It’s been that long?”

Fi nods. “I’m sorry, ok? It’s not like it was a choice. I never wanted to put this on you.”

Dee is full-on scowling now. “You’re not putting anything on me. I kissed you first, remember?”

“After I told you I’m in love with you,” Fi says. 

Dee rolls her eyes. “After I talked you into getting a matching tattoo with me. A tattoo commemorating grinding on each other in a lesbian bar, Fiona. Fuck’s sake.”

Fi goes quiet then. She knows what she wants is impossible. She wants certainty. She wants Dee to promise her everything will work out, which of course is impossible. It was a stupid thing to say in the first place.

This could have been something nice, something hot. She could’ve been laid back for once in her life and allowed herself to get swept up in something she’s wanted for approximately forever, but of course, she couldn’t. She had to get all anxious and insecure and make it into yet another thing she overthinks until it’s beaten into the ground and all the joy is gone.

“I kind of wish we could go back in time,” she says quietly.

“Oh yeah? How far back?”

Fi bites her lip. “Maybe like… five minutes?”

Dee smiles. “You mean like when I took my shirt off?”

“I mean… I wasn’t complaining about that.”

Now it’s Dee who hides her face.

“Sorry,” Fi mumbles. 

“So…” Dee says, a cheeky smirk quirking up one corner of her mouth. “You like my tits?”

Fi reaches out and shoves her in the shoulder. “Shut up.”

“No, but seriously.” Dee’s face goes deadly serious and she drops the duvet to expose herself again. “Do you?”

Fi feels hot under her skin, and for once she’s not ashamed of the way she lets her eyes linger. She needs to give herself permission to trust what Dee is saying.

And what Dee is doing. What Dee is _showing_ her. 

“Yes,” Fi says, voice low. “I do.”

“I like yours too.”

“You do?”

Dee nods. “Remember that time you were getting out of the shower?”

Fi’s stomach squirms just to recall it. She lies her head down against her pillow and Dee follows suit. They lie on their sides facing each other, a fair amount space between them. They’re not touching, and Dee’s the one without a shirt, but Fi reckons she’s never felt more vulnerable in her life. 

“What are we gonna do?” Fi whispers.

Dee doesn’t seem to even think about it. “Maybe to start with you could come over here.”

“You have to put on a shirt,” Fi says, hating herself for it but saying it anyway.

“Why?”

Fi closes her eyes. “Because it’s distracting.”

Dee smiles sheepishly. “Ok fine.” She gets up and retrieves her t-shirt, pulling it over her head hastily. “So we’re keeping it PG?”

“What is ‘it,’ exactly?”

“Christ, Fi.” Dee’s clearly starting to lose her patience. “When did labels become so important to you?”

“Since they became a way to protect me from losing you,” Fi blurts.

Dee is stood at the edge of the bed. She stares at Fi with an unreadable expression for a moment before climbing back up onto the mattress and under the covers.

She has a confidence about her that will always leave Fi in awe. She’ll always be jealous of that part of Dee that can grab at what she wants without running through a million ways in which it could all go wrong. 

Dee grabs around Fi’s lower back and pulls her in close. She kisses her, enveloping Fi’s mouth with hers in a way that certainly doesn’t leave much room for Fi to doubt that, at least right now, Dee definitely wants to be here. She wants to be doing this, so she’s going to do it.

And Fi’s going to let her. There may be a million ways for it to go wrong, but there just may be a million and one ways for it to go _right_ , and if she loses that chance just because she’s afraid, she’s going to hate herself for the rest of her life. 

Dee pulls away just as Fi starts to melt into her. “You’re not going to lose me, dumbass. I’m not going anywhere.”

Fi reaches up to thread her fingers through the hair at the nape of Dee’s neck. She doesn’t say anything, just presses her lips to Dee’s decisively and allows herself the joy. 

-

Dee’s eyes are on her when she wakes up. They’re half-lidded and sleepy, like she’d only just woken up herself. She smiles.

Fi stretches her legs out and yawns, the stiff ache in her muscles a good indication that she’d had a proper good sleep last night. “Good morning.”

There’s a little gap of mattress between them again. Fi has a memory of falling asleep cuddled up, but obviously they’d managed to reclaim their own separate spaces over the course of the night.

“Morning,” Dee croaks. Her voice is deeper when she first wakes up. It’s sexy, and Fi wants to tell her so, but she’s not sure they’re there yet. 

It’s still like a dream that there even is a _yet_.

“Are you gonna leave again?” she asks.

Dee frowns.

“I mean like for class or whatever,” Fi clarifies.

“It’s Saturday, you spoon.”

“Work, then?”

Dee shakes her head. “I’ve got nothing.” She rolls onto her side and props herself up on her elbow. “You?”

Fi shakes her head. “Day off.”

“So can we hang out today?”

Fi wants to reach out. She wants to shuffle forward and touch Dee everywhere, kiss the sleepiness right out of her voice. 

So she does. Dee makes an adorable little noise of surprise when Fi grabs her, and Fi chases it with her mouth. And her tongue.

She doesn’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed about her morning breath. Dee is kissing her right back and sliding a leg in between Fi’s, so self consciousness really seems an unnecessary complication.

“You know you don’t really ever have to ask me that, yeah?” Fi says breathlessly when their lips come momentarily apart. “I’m basically always counting down to the next time we’re together.”

Dee giggles, and the fact that she’s a little breathless as well makes Fi’s heart beat even faster. Dee’s hands are gripping her waist, her thigh wedged up so high between Fi’s that instinct is telling her to grind down against it. 

She’s definitely not going to do that. But she does dip her head down a little to press her lips to Dee’s neck.

Dee gasps softly, with surprise or pleasure Fi’s not sure at first. But then she does it again, parting her lips and kissing firm and a little wet and Dee’s fingers are digging into Fi’s hips, her leg pushing up with purpose.

“Oi,” Fi breathes, pushing at Dee gently, fighting against every instinct in her hormone-addled body. “Can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Dee doesn’t loosen her grip in the slightest. She slides a hand up under Fi’s shirt to press her palm to the small of Fi’s back.

Fi laughs and thunks her forehead against Dee’s. “Because it’s turning me on. Like, a lot.”

“I fail to see the problem.”

Fi hides her face in Dee’s neck. Her long, gorgeous neck. She goes back to kissing it just to distract herself from how strange and amazing and dream-like this all feels. 

“If we’re not allowed to turn each other on you definitely can’t be doing that,” Dee says. 

Fi shakes her head. “I’m allowed to do it to you.”

“What the— how is that fair?”

“Never said it was fair,” Fi teases. She kisses open-mouthed and wet up to Dee’s ear and bites gently around the lobe. “It’s fun though.”

Dee shudders.

“Ok,” Fi murmurs. “I’ll remember that.”

“Fuck off.”

Fi laughs. “I wanna learn everything that makes you feel nice.”

“Why, just so you can torture me?”

Fi grins. “Do you feel tortured right now?” She grazes her teeth against the damp skin of Dee’s neck.

Dee doesn’t answer. She nudges her thigh up between Fi’s legs like she’s on a mission and now it’s Fi’s turn to shudder. She presses her mouth to the base of Dee’s throat and groans. “Why are you already a better lesbian than me?”

“Maybe you inspire me.”

Fi feels Dee’s words on her skin like a brand. “I think _I’m_ feeling a little tortured now.”

Dee takes Fi’s face in her hands and tilts it up so they’re looking at each other again. “In a nice way?”

Fi nods. Her throat is starting to feel a little tight, but she swallows over it harshly. She absolutely cannot cry right now.

She’s about to lean in for a softer kind of kiss when a knock on her bedroom door makes them both jump.

It’s Jimmy. “You up?” he shouts.

She could kill him. She could actually, genuinely murder him on the spot. “Well if I wasn’t before, I sure as hell am now.”

“It’s almost midday, you lazy sod. Get up, today’s the day I get details.”

Fi would laugh if the irony weren’t quite so painful. Dee frowns at her in question.

Fi rolls onto her back and chews on her bottom lip. Clearly Jimmy doesn’t know Dee is here. Does she try to sneak Dee out? Hide her in a closet until Jimmy needs the toilet? Come up with some kind of platonic excuse?

No. Jimmy’s not going to get the details he wants today, but they’re not going to hide. Fi reckons they’ve had just about enough of that. 

She smiles at Dee. “We’ll be right out.”


End file.
